


say my name (wear it out like a sweater)

by theinvisibledisaster



Series: 666 Fics [7]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Co-leaders, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Grounder Bellamy, Leadership, The Delinquents, except they're not really enemies, overuse of the "Princess" nickname, so basically the same dynamic as the show
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:49:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 26,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23301181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theinvisibledisaster/pseuds/theinvisibledisaster
Summary: She picked the bundle up carefully, holding it to her chest, and the baby quietened.“It’s okay, little one,” she promised. “I’ve got you.”She had no idea that one of the Ice Nation spies had seen her carrying a baby back to camp, a baby that was wrapped distinctly in grounder material, and relayed the message back to her clan.She had no idea that they assumed she’d stolen the child from a village.She had no idea how much worse things were about to get.Clarke accidentally acquires a grounder baby and unitentionally starts a war. The only option is to become one with the grounders, and when Lexa tells her she must marry a clan leader to seal the union, Bellamy - the leader of Shallow Valley - steps up.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Series: 666 Fics [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1498343
Comments: 176
Kudos: 552





	1. ain't the one to jump in a relation

**Author's Note:**

> fic title from Say My Name by Tove Styrke because i've been WAITING to name a fic after this song for OVER TWO YEARS (also this song absolutely slaps please go listen to it)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke rescues a baby from the forest. Things get messy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @life-astudyofhypotheticals sent me two prompts:
> 
> 1\. TALIS PLEASE write me a Bellarke arranged marriage canon divergence fic. I literally do not care about the actual plot. Bellamy can be a grounder if you want. Clarke can be a grounder if you want. They could both be escaping a treaty marriage. I just want them to get married and gradually fall in love or act on it. Arranged Marriage is literally my favorite trope 
> 
> 2\. Talis :))) I finally got around to sending fic requests for your 666 follower celebration!! I honestly can’t remember if I sent one in yet but! Please write me any sort of fic that has the accidental baby acquisition trope 🥰🥰
> 
> and i smushed them together to create this monstrosity sdfkljghgkfhgjf I hope you like it!! I had a lot of fun writing it. <3

When Clarke came down to the ground, she never expected for the delinquents to look to her as a leader. It was a role she took on uncomfortably, like shoes that rubbed blisters into her heel, but she did it because there was no-one else to step up. 

The existence of the grounders was a surprise. 

It came in the form of an attack. 

For months they fought against the grounders who thought they shouldn’t be there, all while the Ark watched from above, uncaring and unwilling to help. Having landed between two territories - Azgeda and Trikru - they had to hold both sides at bay, all while Clarke tried to organise a peace treaty with the leaders of both tribes, who ignored her request.

Then, during one of her trips out to fetch seaweed, one of the trips she insisted on taking alone to keep the delinquents safe in case something happened, she was on her way back when she stumbled upon a bundle in the woods. 

It was a baby. 

She edged towards it, to where it was nestled among the roots of an enormous tree, glancing around for any sign of grounders, any clue this might be a trap. She didn’t find any and she crouched down in front of it. “Hi.”

The baby gurgled.

There wasn’t any indication that someone was nearby. No clothes, no note, not even a weapon lying around. The baby was wrapped in cloth and hidden in the roots of a tree. 

Clarke suspected that perhaps whoever had left it there didn’t intend to come back. 

“Hey little one,” she shuffled forward on her hands, smiling at the child. It beamed up at her cheeks pink in the crisp air. “Are you alone out here?”

Not unexpectedly, it didn’t respond. 

Clarke wanted to stay, to make sure it was being taken care of, but she knew how dangerous it was for her to be out there, and the sun was getting low. She needed to get back to camp. So she took one last, mournful look at the child, sent a silent prayer up to whatever gods still existed that it would be safe, and returned to the dropship.

But she felt uneasy about it. 

So two days later, she ventured out again, early in the morning this time, just to make sure she was mistaken about it being abandoned. And then, when she found the tree she was looking for, her heart sank to find the baby still in the same place it had been before, crying to itself in the dark. It must have been barely six months old, and it was terrified.

She picked the bundle up carefully, holding it to her chest, and the baby quietened. 

“It’s okay, little one,” she promised. “I’ve got you.”

She had no idea that one of the Ice Nation spies had seen her carrying a baby back to camp, a baby that was wrapped distinctly in grounder material, and relayed the message back to her clan. 

She had no idea that they assumed she’d stolen the child from a village. 

She had no idea how much worse things were about to get. 

* * *

When she brought the baby back to camp, most of the delinquents barely batted an eye, and most of the ones who showed any interest were curious only for her benefit - how could they help, what did the child need, those sorts of questions. Wells, of course, was the most help; he constantly offered to watch the baby when Clarke needed to rest or to make an important decision, and he started brainstorming names for it within the first few hours of Clarke’s return. Raven raised an eyebrow, not particularly maternal, but she didn’t say anything against it. Finn seemed anxious, but he didn’t make any protests either, and Monty and Jasper thought she was the cutest thing they’d ever seen. 

Even Murphy seemed to soften in her presence. 

Clarke was beginning to find hope in their future, that things might actually work out. If she could convince the grounders to sit down with her, to help her find a place for the child, perhaps they could broker peace. 

It took less than a day for the attacks to worsen. 

Arrows started flying over the walls at random, and leaving the camp at any time of night became a serious danger. More than one kid came back injured or frightened, and they lost three delinquents over the next week. They couldn’t even bury them with the others; too afraid to broach the perimeter. 

The grounders were winning. 

Clarke paced around the camp, tending to injuries and trying to plan ahead, all while she propped up the tiny girl on her hip. She was beginning to adjust now that she was being fed and cared for, and Clarke couldn’t understand why anyone would choose to leave such a cheerful, beautiful creature alone in the dark. 

She was completely besotted with the child, but she was still scared to name her, unwilling to present any ownership over the girl who didn’t belong to her. But did she really belong with the people who abandoned her? At night, Clarke went to sleep on the floor, letting the baby rest in the bed, until Wells realised what she was doing and got Miller to help build a small crib for the child. 

Over a week had passed since she found the girl and brought her back to the dropship, and the attacks were only getting worse, and then one day, all hell broke loose. 

She was sitting in the tent with Raven, Finn and Monty, trying to work out a plan to keep Azgeda’s forces at bay, when Fox came running in, shrieking that a grounder had broken through the barricades. Clarke handed the child to Monty and sprinted to the gates. 

Standing there, facing down the twenty armed weapons aimed at his head, was a severely wounded man, holding himself up through sheer force of will as blood gushed from his chest. 

“Oh my god,” she whispered. 

_“Fisa sis ai,”_ he muttered, eyes darting around wildly at the guns pointed in his direction, fingers sliding as he tried to cover the wound. His gaze finally made its way to Clarke, locking onto her in a way no-one else’s ever had, and she could see the vulnerability in his eyes when he begged, _“Beja.”_

His eyes rolled back in his head and she leapt forward, catching him before he hit the ground. When she looked up, the others were staring at her in confusion, and she scowled. “Don’t just stand there! Help me bring him into the med tent!”

“Why? He’s a grounder,” Mbege said. 

“Because he’s a person who came to us for _help,”_ Clarke said, staring him down. “He didn’t bring any weapons, he didn’t bring reinforcements - he came alone and injured, looking for a doctor. He’s not a threat to us, and if, when he wakes up, it turns out I’m wrong and he’s here to hurt us, then we have the advantage. Besides, we could do with a hostage; we might be able to extract information from him.”

That seemed to be enough for everyone, and they helped her take him through to the med tent so she could see his injuries. She cleaned them up, discovering the cut to be made by some kind of serrated blade, and the severity of it made her wince. Monty and Jasper helped her perform minor surgery on him, passing her tools and cooling his fever with damp cloths as she stitched him up. When it was all over, he lay on the table, unconscious, and she finally stepped back to look at him. 

He was young, maybe only a few years older than her, and his brown curls were soaked to his face, freckles highlighted against his pallid skin. She had the sudden urge to brush the hair back, but she let her arm drop to her side. 

* * *

Over the days that followed, he recovered, albeit slowly - slipping in and out of consciousness, often delirious with fever. The camp remained suspicious of him, but none of them were revolting, which Clarke took as a good sign. On the third day, he finally seemed to gain cognizance; when she came in to check on him, back of her hand against his forehead, he flinched awake, hand darting up to wrap around her wrist as his eyes snapped open. 

“It’s okay,” she promised, trying not to react even as his fingers tightened around her arm. “I’m not trying to hurt you, I’m just checking your temperature.”

He eyed her warily, but his gaze flickered down to his chest, covered in gauze and taped up against the elements, and then back up, understanding dawning. His grip loosened slightly. “You… you saved me?”

“You speak English?” She asked, shocked. 

He seemed amused at her surprise, a half-smile forming on his lips. “What, grounders can’t be multilingual?” 

She couldn’t help the surprised bark of laughter that fell from her lips. “Fair enough.”

He blinked confusedly, taking in his surroundings. “Who are you? Where am I?”

“I’m Clarke, I guess I’m like the leader here. Who are you?”

“Leader?” His fingers flexed around her arm as he looked her up and down. “You’re younger than I expected.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what you get when the people in charge send a bunch of delinquents down here,” she sighed. “An eighteen-year-old leader who has to keep a hundred teenagers alive. You’re not exactly old yourself.”

He blinked up at her. 

“I’m Bellamy kom Louwoda Kliron - I’m the leader of my people, of Shallow Valley.” Her fear must have shown on her face, because he let go of her arm and held both his hands up in an obvious surrender. “I’m not going to hurt you, I swear. We’ve never had anything against your kind. We wanted to accept the peace treaty and welcome you into the valley, but Azgeda stopped us. They thought you were dangerous and not to be trusted, and when we tried to push back, we got caught in the fight. But we were never fighting you, we were fighting Ice Nation soldiers.”

“Is that how you got hurt?” Clarke asked, gesturing to his chest. 

He nodded. “Nia, the leader of Azgeda, is planning a large-scale attack on this place, and soon. I argued with her and Anya - the leader of Trikru - about attacking you, and when I told them I was coming here to warn you about her plans, Nia had an assassin come after me. We fought, I lost.”

“And you came here anyway,” she said, awe tingeing her voice. 

“It’s my responsibility, as a leader,” he said. “If I can prevent a war, why would I do anything else?”

She couldn’t help but expel a breath of relief. Finally, someone who understood where she was coming from. The delinquents looked to her for leadership, but they were also teenage criminals and a lot of them didn’t understand why they weren’t attacking on every front. Clarke sat down on the edge of the cot. “Is there any way we can broker some kind of treaty?”

“Not with Nia,” he shrugged. “But with Lexa, perhaps.”

“Lexa?”

“The Commander of the 12 Clans - she’s the only person who could stop this war. Anya would listen to her. I don’t know about Nia, but with Trikru obeying The Commander’s will, Nia’s forces would have to surrender.”

“Why are they coming after us so hard?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Because Nia is convinced you stole a child.”

Clarke dropped her head into her hands. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Did you?” he looked up at her, wariness in his gaze. 

“No!” Clarke snapped. “I _rescued_ a child. She was abandoned in the forest. I waited for days before I took her, I made sure I wasn’t mistaken… she’s just a baby and she was all alone out there. I couldn’t just leave her.”

He was still looking at her with that strange look in his eye. “Whether or not your intentions were good, that’s kidnapping, _hainofi.”_

“What does that mean?” 

“Kidnapping? It’s a crime.”

“No,” she frowned, irritated, especially once she saw the cocky smile on his face. He was messing with her. “The word you said.”

“It’s our language, _hainofi,_ I’m hardly going to tell you when I don’t even know if I can trust you. That would put me at a tactical disadvantage.”

“I saved your life.”

“You also stole a child, not to mention you fell from the sky in a metal box. There is no reason for me to trust you, or your reasoning for taking the child, until I know you further.”

She folded her arms defensively, hating to admit that he had a point. “So how do we trust each other?”

“Time, mostly,” he pushed himself up into a sitting position, and his face was inches from hers but he barely seemed to notice, looking down at his wound as he repositioned himself to take the strain off it. “This is impressive.”

“My mother’s a doctor, you pick things up,” she said distractedly, close enough to see the constellations of freckles across his cheeks. She shook her head, clearing it. “And we don’t _have_ time. You’ve been out for three days, so if Nia-”

“Three days?” Bellamy’s tone shifted, eyes darkening, and he swung his legs off the bed and dropped to the floor, leaning heavily on the edge for support. “I’ve gotta get back to my people.”

“You’re in no state to go anywhere.”

“That doesn’t matter,” he growled, looking around the room for something. 

“You need to recover-”

“Look, I not only need to get back to help my people, but to help yours - if I don’t get to Lexa in the next two days, there’s nothing that can stop Nia from coming in here and killing you all,” he said, deadly serious, and she took a shaky breath.

“Okay,” she followed his gaze to his clothes hanging over the back of a chair and handed them to him. “Okay. But you’re still hurt and I don’t want you passing out or walking into any traps before you can help us broker some kind of treaty.”

“Ah, is that all I am to you, _hainofi?”_ he said sardonically, carefully pulling on his shirt. He winced as he lifted his arms up, and she instinctively moved forward to help him pull it down. He let her, and when it was on, they were in each other’s space for a few seconds too long, neither looking in the other’s eyes. He cleared his throat. “So what do you suggest; you want to come with me?”

“I’m a leader, like you - I don’t want to leave my people,” she admitted. “But I have an idea.”

He cocked an eyebrow. 

* * *

Clarke’s idea - to send him off with Miller and Atom as guards on their way - didn’t go down well with a few of the delinquents, but they were quickly brought around once she told them they were going to broker a deal. 

The resolve of the camp had been wavering over the previous days - initially the delinquents had been bursting for a fight, particularly due to people like Murphy fuelling the fire, but once more people started falling to the grounders, people started turning towards more long-term solutions. The decision was solidified a day after they left. 

Bellamy had promised a three day turnaround until she would get word of The Commander’s choice, and they were just trying to hold down the fort until then. 

And then, late at night, when Murphy was on shift at the door, Charlotte managed to slip out. 

It wasn’t his fault. 

But they found her the next morning, left deliberately for them to find: a message. Murphy was disgusted, and angry, and he lashed out. Clarke didn’t blame him for what had happened, or for his reaction, but many of the other kids did and they started a riot in the camp trying to throw him out and close the door behind him. 

None of them wanted a little girl to die. 

It took most of the second day for Clarke, Finn and Wells to calm down the mobs, and after everything had settled and Murphy felt safe walking around again, he seemed less bitter towards them. He still called her “Princess” but it didn’t have as much of a sneer when he said it, and he’d stopped trying to pick fights with Wells. 

By the third day, Clarke was getting restless. 

All of Monty and Raven’s efforts to reach the Ark and send up a message had failed, and they were down to the last three wristbands in the camp. Raven’s radio had been damaged in the fall, and they’d been trying to repair it with the parts they had, but nothing was working. Jasper was healing, but it was slow, and Clarke was worried about infection. Not to mention that every time they sent groups out for supplies, there was a chance they wouldn’t come back, which meant they were running low on rations. And water. 

As the sun began to brush the horizon on the third day, Clarke had taken to pacing up and down inside the tent while they worked, balancing the baby on her hip while she slept in the crook of her arm. 

“Oh my god, please stop,” Raven glared. “It’s distracting.”

“Sorry,” she muttered. “I’m just… they should be back right now, right? Or we should have heard something?”

“He said three days, but he was also wounded and travelling slower than normal,” Monty said, ever the pragmatist. “Plus he’s taking two of our people with him, which means he’s probably under extra scrutiny. If you trust Miller and Atom, and you give this grounder a little more time, then I’m sure we’ll see some kind of result.”

“You’re too naive,” Murphy said, making Clarke jump. She’d forgotten he was sitting in the corner. He’d taken to doing that ever since the others tried to string him up - keeping to the shadows, causing less trouble. “People aren’t that _good_ in the real world, Monty; most assholes are just out for themselves.”

Monty bristled. “In that case we still have hope, because ending this war is good for him and his people too - he told Clarke they were stuck in the middle - and preventing more attacks is in his best interest.”

“Just take a breath, Clarke,” Finn said, entering the tent. He glanced between her and Raven, hesitating before he moved to Raven’s side. 

It had been so awkward between them since Raven came down. It had never even occurred to Clarke that she could be the other woman, and the second she realised she was, she ended it. But Finn still seemed hung up on it somehow, letting his gaze linger on her a little too long, standing too close while they looked over plans, taking great pains to check in with her.

She knew Raven noticed, and she tried to tell her that she had no interest in rekindling her brief fling with Finn, but the tension was beginning to rise, especially in the last few days, when all they could do was _wait._

Finn cleared his throat, looking towards the device in Raven’s hand. “Any luck?”

“Not yet, but we’re getting close, I can feel it,” she said, squinting at the tiny wires. 

“I hope so, cause we’re running out of these,” Monty waved two wristbands in the air. 

“Also,” Finn grimaced, “we’re running out of water.”

“Shit.” Clarke let her head fall into her free hand. Things were really beginning to spiral and she had no idea how to keep everyone alive without water, let alone during a war they never asked for. She decided that if she heard _one more_ negative development, she was going to cry, and that was going to wake the baby, and then _she’d_ cry and everything would fall apart. So naturally, that was when Harper burst in, eyes wide.

“What’s wrong?” Monty asked.

“They’re setting up camp!”

“What?”

“The grounders, they’re-” she panted, trying to catch her breath, “-they’ve set up some kind of camp just outside our doors with some kind of building and everything. Monroe was on the wall and she saw them arriving. There are at least a hundred of them, and they’re all armed. There’s no way we can fight them all.”

“Shit.” Raven muttered.

“What are we gonna do?” Monty chimed in. 

“Nothing, we’re screwed,” Murphy shrugged. 

“I’m getting real sick of your attitude, Murphy,” Finn smacked his hand on the table, glaring at him. 

They started fighting, sending barbed words back and forth, and Raven joined in, snapping at them both, but Clarke could barely hear it, too deep in thought. Harper looked terrified, and desperate, and defeated, but Clarke felt something niggling at the back of her mind. Something about this whole situation that just didn’t make sense. This didn’t feel like one of Nia’s attacks. She looked down at the little girl in her arms, mulling it over. 

“They’re… building something?”

“Yeah, like one of these,” she shook the supportive beam of the tent. “Right outside.”

Clarke nodded, taking a deep breath. “It’s okay, Harper, I don’t think they’re planning to hurt us.”

“What?” 

She turned around and yelled for the others’ attention. The fighting died down and they all faced her, a little sheepish. “I don’t think this is an attack, I think this is something else.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think this is what Bellamy was talking about - The Commander,” the words were barely out of her mouth before another figure entered the tent, confirming her suspicions: Miller. She stepped forward to grip his shoulder. “You’re back! What happened?”

“That Bellamy guy isn’t that bad, you know,” Miller said, looking tired. “He spoke to that leader woman and they brought us back and set up a place outside - they want to actually have peace talks, or at least something close to it.”

“Thank god,” Monty slumped, relieved. 

“Where’s… where’s Atom?” Clarke asked, knowing the answer before he said it as the dread showed in his eyes. 

“He didn’t make it,” Miller said, solemn, rubbed the back of his neck. “On our way there, we were ambushed by more of those Azgeda assholes. Bellamy tried to save him, but there must have been poison in the arrow that caught him.”

“Shit,” Finn rubbed his forehead. 

“Look, they want a meeting tonight, with our leader and any advisors,” Miller recited. “The way I see it, that’s Clarke and most of the people in this room - bar Murphy, obviously.”

“Hey fuck you, Nathan.”

“You couldn’t handle me, John,” he retorted. 

“Alright, enough you two,” Clarke held up a hand between them. She glanced around. “Monty, Raven, Finn, you’re with me. We’ll get Wells on the way, I think he’s still teaching some of the younger kids to forage.”

“I’ll get him,” Harper offered, jogging out of the tent before anyone could thank her. 

“Miller, you should come too, you’ve met these people,” Clarke added as they all began following her. “Murphy, don’t set anything on fire while we’re gone.”

“No promises,” he drawled, leaning back in his chair, looking thoroughly uninterested. 

Clarke led the way through the camp, through the growing crowds of frightened delinquents as they emerged from their tents to see what happened. Wells appeared at her side and offered to take the baby from her. She handed the child over, barely stirring, and felt her absence as soon as she did. She knew it would be dangerous to bring the girl with her, but she worried about being away from her. Wells seemed to know, squeezing her shoulder as he readjusted the baby in his arms, and she was thankful for his quiet, reassuring presence. 

Jasper leaned against the wall, waiting for them. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, nervous. 

She nodded. “I’m sure.”

He made a gesture towards Monroe and she pulled the tie on the door, unlocking it so he could swing it open. “Be careful. We need you guys.”

“Maybe one of us should stay behind,” Wells suggested. “Just in case - to keep everyone calm on this side of the wall.”

“Good idea,” Finn said, and when their heads swung to him, he blinked. “Not me, there’s no chance I’m letting Clarke go over there alone.”

“She’s not alone,” Miller said, sounding both bored and defensive at once. 

“You know what I mean.”

“No, actually, I don’t,” he said, annoyance rising, but Clarke cleared her throat. 

“Wells,” she smiled thinly at him. “Do you think you can hold down the fort for tonight? You’re the only person I trust to make sure this place doesn’t devolve into chaos while I’m gone.”

“You got it.” He pulled her into a brief hug, murmuring into her ear; “You know I was planning to do that anyway, right?”

“Yeah. Take care of the baby,” Clarke touched the girl’s cheek as she pulled back, already regretting having to leave. 

Wells smiled, understanding. “Just make sure you come back, okay?”

“Deal,” she stepped away, and Jasper pulled the door the remainder of the way open. 

On the other side stood a large group of fearsome looking warriors, each with a large weapon in hand; in formation in front of the entrance - behind them Clarke could see candlelight flickering inside the tent, illuminating figures around a table. 

“Which of you is the leader?” one of the warriors asked, a stoic, tough looking woman with a dark tattoo curling around her cheek. 

“I am,” Clarke said, trying to project more confidence than she felt. 

“Only she goes inside,” the woman said. 

“Not gonna happen, lady,” Finn snapped. 

“Not up to you, boy,” she replied, unfazed. 

“These are my advisors,” Clarke said. “If your people bring their advisors, why can I not bring mine?”

“Can they keep quiet?” 

“Yes,” she said, perhaps a little too quickly. “I swear, they won’t say a word during the meeting, they’re just here to offer me counsel.”

The woman seemed to think it over, but her gaze was shrewd, and Clarke realised that that must have been some kind of test, whether of her character or her wit or anything else The Commander told this woman to look for. The woman stepped back, leaving a small gap in the formation. “You may bring your counsel - but if they interrupt The Commander, or disagree with her final ruling, I will cut each of them down without question, is that understood?”

Clarke nodded, and the five of them walked through the rows of warriors and through the doors into a large tent. There was a large wooden table in the center - and she didn’t even want to _think_ about how they’d transported it there - and around the edges were steely-figures, all of whom looked up as they entered. The one in the middle lifted her chin, acknowledging them; that must be The Commander. The others followed suit, tilting their heads in acknowledgement, as Clarke took her place at the table. Bellamy, who was standing to Lexa’s left, across from her, didn’t meet her eye, but she didn’t blame him - it clearly wasn’t a safe idea to align yourself with the enemy at the beginning of the meeting. At least he looked healthier than the last time she’d seen him. 

“You are Klark, of the Skai people?” The Commander asked, and silence fell in the room - the meeting had begun. “You lead them?”

“I do,” Clarke said, shoulders back, spine straight. “I lead those of us on the grounder.”

“What of the others; where do Skaikru’s true leaders lie?”

“They sent us down here to die,” she said. “Their leadership means very little to us. You want a representative? I’m the best you’ve got.”

The woman regarded her pensively. “Alright, Klark kom Skaikru. I am Lexa, Commander of the 12 Clans; I believe you have encountered Bellamy, of the Shallow Valley, and Anya kom Trikru, and I understand you’ve had many altercations with Azgeda warriors,” she gestured to each leader as she spoke, and while Bellamy looked neutral, Anya and Nia both wore disdainful expressions. Lexa continued, “Nia seems to think you started this war.”

“We didn’t.”

“Thought you might dispute that,” Lexa raised an eyebrow. “No matter. You haven’t met Derrick kom Floukru, Antrio kom Sangedakru, Stellan kom Trishanakru, Dreya kom Yujleda, Lissa kom Boudalan, and Trindel kom Podakru. Representatives from Ouskejon Kru and Delfikru could not be here. Luna, leader of Floukru, declined my invitation and sent Derrick in her place to serve as her representative. This is our coalition, and we have come together to decide your fate. You, _aulana,_ have broken our laws.”

Clarke didn’t say anything.

“You have nothing to say in your defence?”

“I don’t know what I’m being accused of,” she replied. “Your people attacked first. You speared my friend through the chest, he’s lucky to be alive.”

“You landed on _our_ land,” Anya spoke up, but shut her mouth at Lexa’s glance. 

“As I said, we are not responsible for that - those were the people who sent us down here to die, and we have no interest in letting them make our decision for us anymore.”

“Be that as it may, you still perpetuated this war,” Nia argued. 

Lexa shot her a warning look. “Klark kom Skaikru, you are charged with theft of a child, an act which Nia claims incited her people to war. What do you say to these accusations?”

Clarke folded her arms, keeping her voice firm and her gaze level when she said, “I refute them.”

“Do you not have a child within your camp at this moment?” Lexa asked. 

“I do,” she admitted. “And she will remain there until we reach some kind of resolution, where she will be safe.”

“Yet you deny you kidnapped this baby?”

“I rescued her from certain death,” Clarke tried very hard not to raise her voice as her frustration started growing. “I noticed her abandoned under a tree when I went foraging, and more than two days later when I went out again, she was still there. She was malnourished, there was nobody around, and she hadn’t moved since the first time I’d seen her. Whoever left her there had never intended to return. All I did with that child was keep her alive.”

“She was not yours to protect,” Lexa said, narrowing her eyes at her curiously. 

Clarke frowned. “That’s irrelevant.”

A flicker of surprise crossed Lexa’s face, and the corner of Bellamy’s mouth quirked up; he quickly ducked his head so the other grounders wouldn’t see it, but Clarke managed to catch it before he schooled his expression and lifted his head.

“You took this baby in your camp, despite the strife you might cause, despite her not being of your people? For no other reason than compassion?” Anya asked, sceptical. 

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yes,” Nia snapped, drawing the attention back to herself. “You stole that child as leverage. You incited war. You crashed into our land and don’t understand why we attack? You steal from us and don’t understand why we attack? Disgusting.”

“Nia, hold your tongue,” Lexa said, stern, and Nia stopped speaking, but there was a look on her face that implied her self-control could only last for so long before she snapped again. She looked furious, irritated, contemptuous, like the whole coalition was beneath her. Clarke wondered if The Commander had as much power as Bellamy seemed to think she did. “Whether or not you stole this child for good reasons or bad, you still stole her. If you want to live peacefully with our people, the first thing you must do is return her to her rightful people,” Lexa said, like she was offering a deal.

“No.”

A gasp rippled around the room. 

“No?” Lexa asked. 

“No.” Clarke repeated. “Could any of you even tell me which clan she was from? Trikru, Azgeda, Shallow Valley, Trishana, any of you?”

Unrest started growing among the leaders as they all looked to one another, expecting them to speak up. 

When none of them did, Clarke pressed on. “Her family abandoned her, and if I don’t know which clan she came from, how do I know she’ll be taken care of? I’m not going to be another person to abandon her - she’s a defenseless baby and she deserves better than that. She deserves someone who’ll take care of her.”

“And you think you’re that person?” Derrick spoke, questioning. 

“I do.”

A few of the leaders started speaking over each other, gesturing wildly towards Clarke as they yelled in their language, and she knew this wasn’t for her ears - they were discussing their ruling. She let her gaze wander; to Bellamy, who was observing Lexa and Nia’s argument, to Anya who seemed to be silently thinking it over, to the warriors around the edge of the room, all of whom looked equally as conflicted. 

Someone moved at her back and she felt Miller’s hand on her wrist. “You think that was the right choice?”

“You think it wasn’t?”

“Hey, if you want to stand your ground and keep the baby safe, I’m with you to the end of the line, Griffin.”

“Me too,” Monty agreed. 

“I think you’re crazy,” Raven said. 

Finn elbowed her. “It’s a good strategy, Princess.”

“It’s not a strategy, Finn,” Clarke retorted, nose wrinkling as she tried to hide her annoyance. “I care about her and I’m not letting her go anywhere unless I know for a fact she’s safe!”

Across the room, Anya’s head jerked up at her words, eyes piercing across the room. After a long moment of silence, locked in her gaze, Anya turned to Lexa and muttered some harsh words in their language, interrupting Nia, who looked less than pleased. She started yelling something, jabbing her finger so hard into the table Clarke was worried it might break. 

Lexa held up her hands and the discussions died down. 

“I have made my decision.”

Nia looked enraged.“But-”

“I have made my decision,” Lexa repeated. “Klark kom Skaikru, you have stolen a child from a clan who did not belong to you. This has brought unrest between us. In order to rectify this crime, you must become one with the clan who claims the child. One cannot steal a child from their own clan provided their intentions were good and the leader of that kru agrees.”

Clarke nodded, trying to catch up. “Okay. What does this mean?”

“This means you must become one with a member of the kru who claims the child, that you must be bonded together.”

Everything seemed to grind to a halt. Clarke blinked. Blinked again. Swallowed. Blinked again. “I’m… I’m sorry, you want me to…”

“You must do this, or you must return the child,” Lexa said, watching her carefully. “I am being reasonable, Klark. This is the option you are given.”

“Clarke, you don’t have to do this!” Finn whispered, sounding angry. 

“No speaking, skaikru,” one of the guards snapped, and Finn stepped back, hands raised in surrender, but he wasn’t the only one who looked apprehensive about the idea. Miller, at her side, was shifting his weight, and Raven was tapping her foot the way she always did when things weren’t going her way. 

Clarke steeled herself. “Okay.”

“What?!” Finn gasped, and he wasn’t the only one. Raven clapped a hand over her mouth and a few of the clan leaders’ looked surprised. Nia simply looked furious. 

“You accept my terms?” Lexa clarified. 

“I accept your terms, provided we can negotiate our own terms once this marriage has occurred,” she said, placing both her palms on the table and leaning her weight on them, unflinching. She needed them all to think she was confident in her decision, even as her heart raced in her chest, thumping against her ribs. “My people deserve to feel safe.”

“With your marriage, as one leader to another, your people will be absorbed into ours - they will no longer be enemies of us, but part of our coalition.”

“Fine,” Clarke agreed. “Who am I betrothed to, to seal this deal?”

“Two of our leaders volunteered to claim the child and join with you,” Lexa tilted her head. “Anya, of the forest people, offered her hand, as did Bellamy of Shallow Valley. You may take a few minutes for your decision.”

“A few _minutes?!”_ Miller asked, irate. 

Stellan, from Trishanakru, lifted his sword, “You were warned about speaking, _aulana.”_

 _“Em pleni!”_ Lexa ordered. Stellan lowered his sword. “You have a few minutes. You may speak with your advisors if you wish. The choice is your own, _Klark,_ but you must make it now. We must seal the union tonight.”

Clarke nodded, stepping away from the table so she could talk to her friends with some level of privacy, and the moment she turned around, they all started talking at once. 

“This is insane,” Finn said. 

“It’s not enough time,” Raven added. 

“Do you want help choosing?” Monty asked. 

“Grounder culture is wild, man,” Miller deadpanned. 

Clarke snorted, and he smiled, having achieved his objective of lightening the moment. She rubbed her eyebrow where a headache was beginning to form. “We don’t have time to argue about this; I’m doing it, we’re going to make peace with these people, and we’re going to do it now. That’s it.”

“Who are you marrying?”

“I don’t know,” she said, pressing her thumb a little harder into the space between her eyes. “Miller, you spent a few days with Bellamy, what was he like?”

“He’s… a decent guy, I think,” Miller said honestly. “He tried to save Atom, he made sure I was treated with respect when we reached Lexa’s stronghold or whatever the fuck it was - he seems more normal than any other grounder I’ve met so far.”

“He’s still a grounder,” Raven said. 

“He came to warn us about Nia,” Monty pointed out.

“What about Anya? What do we know about her?” Miller asked. “She seems badass.”

“And she also seems intelligent - she was against us when she walked in and she was swayed by logic, which is more than I can say for some of the others,” Raven said. 

“I don’t like this,” Finn said, moping. 

“It’s not your decision,” Clarke said, refusing to dwell on how miserable he looked. She pressed her lips together, pondering it. “And Anya’s people are warriors, they would make good protection against Azgeda, which could come in handy if Nia decides to attack us anyway.”

“True,” Miller agreed. 

“Look, Clarke,” Monty reached out for her hand, gaining her attention. “You should be taking yourself into account as well.”

“I can’t, Monty,” she sighed. 

“Of course you can. This is about what’s best for our people, but it’s also about you; whoever you pick, you have to be married to, to live with, to lead beside - and if you pick the best choice for our people but the worst choice for you, you’re making a choice to negatively affect the rest of your life.”

“That’s why I’m not marrying Murphy,” she joked. 

“Clarke,” he said, soft but serious, and she squeezed his hand in thanks. 

“I know,” she took a deep breath and turned back to the table.

Lexa looked up, calling the coalition back to order. “Have you made your choice?”

“I have,” Clarke said. “I will marry Bellamy of the Shallow Valley and make my people his people, ending this war and sealing this treaty.”

The room erupted in noise once more, but all Clarke could focus on was Bellamy’s slightly surprised expression across the room, and the way it morphed into determination as Lexa began ordering people in place for the ceremony. 

* * *

Clarke had never really thought about getting married. 

She’d seen her parents together of course, wondered how they kept their marriage so happy, wondered if she might get that someday, but it had been more of an abstract thought than an idea. And then her mother turned her father in and got him killed, and all thoughts of matrimony were cast from her mind. 

Yet, suddenly, there she was. She was taken into a different room to be tied into some kind of grounder outfit that made her lungs feel like they were unfairly squashed in, and her hair was ornately dressed up, and then she was being shoved into place in front of Lexa as she called the coalition to order. Standing in front of a man she’d met _once,_ as a fierce leader of a terrifying group of warriors they had been at war with made them say some kind of vows in a language Clarke didn’t understand. 

It was surreal, to say the least.

It all passed in a kind of blur, and when the ceremony ended and Bellamy pressed a quick, dry kiss to her mouth, she barely had time to register it before Lexa was calling an end to the wedding, the meeting, and the war. 

She was bundled out into the night air as the warriors began packing up, and she ignored the icy glare from Nia and her soldiers as they reluctantly untied their horses and rode them into the dark. 

Each of the other leaders came to her and gripped her elbow in some kind of grounder handshake before they left, acknowledging the union, and Anya even muttered a few words to Bellamy that made him laugh before she jerked her chin at Clarke, an acknowledgement, and left with her people in tow. 

In fact, it wasn’t until it was over and almost everyone had gone, that it really hit home. Clarke was _married._ She had a _husband._

“What do we do now?” she asked. 

“We usually ask you that,” Monty pointed out jokingly. 

“Usually I know the answer,” she said, feeling abnormally tired. 

Bellamy cleared his throat nervously. “Uh. You have to come with me.”

“What?”

“The union has to be… we have to spend the night together,” he said. “There’s a place, a mile or so from here, where we are expected to go. It’s in Anya’s territory, but she offered it to us; my territory might be too far to travel on foot this late at night.”

“Oh,” Clarke felt nauseous. 

Bellamy leaned closer so the few remaining warriors and Lexa couldn’t hear. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to, _hainofi,_ but for the sake of appearances-”

“No, I understand,” she lifted her chin. “I’ll go with you.”

Over Raven’s shoulder, she saw Lexa’s expression of approval. 

“What are we supposed to do?” Miller asked. 

“Go back inside, tell everyone what’s going on, try to put out any fires - I don’t expect them to be thrilled at this development,” Clarke said. “Just keep it all together until tomorrow morning. I’ll talk it over with Bellamy tonight and we’ll decide how to join our people, how to go ahead. Tomorrow morning we’ll have a plan.”

Miller, Monty and Raven all seemed in agreement, but as they started heading back towards the doors, Finn stepped forward and shoved a hand against Bellamy’s chest. 

“Finn!” Clarke snapped. 

He ignored her, too busy getting in Bellamy’s face. “I hear for one second that you did anything she doesn’t want you to do, I’ll kill you.”

Bellamy just regarded him, impassive. “I have a feeling she could probably kill me herself.”

Miller grinned. “He’s got a point there, Collins.”

“Come on, Finn,” Raven grabbed his elbow and started dragging him away, irritable look on his face, and Clarke imagined he was about to get a serious earful from his girlfriend and she really didn’t want to stick around for that. 

“I’ll talk to Wells - we’ll keep an eye on the baby for you,” Monty said, waving as they left. 

She looked up at Bellamy. “Where’s the place we’re supposed to go?”

He jerked his head towards the forest, and she fell into step beside him, walking in silence through the dark. She glanced at him every now and then, at his side profile in the dim light from the moon that filtered through the trees. He seemed to be able to navigate the forest easily despite the night, and she wondered how long it would take her to be able to do the same. 

“Here,” he pointed, and she caught sight of a small wooden structure ahead. 

It was a hut, of some kind, with torches at the door, which meant someone had gone ahead to set the place up for them. She didn’t know if she should be touched or if she should feel awkward about the implications, and opted instead to pick up a torch and walk inside.

“This is nice,” she murmured, and it was. The hut was one room, a large bed against the furthest wall that filled up the majority of the place, but there was an old-fashioned bath in the corner and Clarke couldn’t remember the last time she’d bathed in anything that wasn’t a river. There was a chest by the door and she hooked the torch in her hand on the place for it against the wall so she could look through the collection of books and unlit candles and folded animal skins and linens in the box. 

“Books,” Bellamy said softly, leaning over her. “I didn’t know they had books in here. I would have come here way earlier.”

“You would have gotten married earlier just to read some books?” Clarke asked, turning over a battered copy of _Persuasion_ in her hand. 

He shrugged, plucking it from her fingers and sitting down on the edge of the mattress so he could thumb his way through it. “There are worse reasons to get married.”

She laughed. “True.”

He glanced up at her. “That’s not what I meant.”

“No, I know,” she smiled reassuringly at him. “How do you even know about this place?”

He hesitated for a moment, torn, before he did actually put the book down beside him. He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees, and she shifted so she was sitting more comfortably on the floor, listening - she had a feeling this was going to be a story she wanted to listen to. 

“My sister,” he looked at his hands while he spoke. “She was married last year, to someone from Trikru.”

“She had to come here?” Clarke scrunched up her nose. “That’s a little weird.”

“You might understand why I’m a little reluctant to sleep with you here,” he said, tone light, but there was some truth to it. He pulled at the nail on his thumb, awkward, uncomfortable. “My sister and I… we have a rocky relationship. After our mother died and I became the leader of Shallow Valley, she told me she was tired of peace and quiet; she wanted to join Trikru, become a warrior. She was already a warrior, but she wanted to see battle, and I was trying to maintain peace in the valley.”

“Why did she want to fight?”

“My sister… she’s special. There’s a thing, in our culture, a freak of nature that some of my people think of as magic, that makes some people’s blood black. Only _natblida_ can rise to become The Commander but to do so, they have to fight in a conclave. Children. Children, killing each other to become figureheads. My mother didn’t approve-”

“Rightly so.”

“-and she hid my sister. When they came to collect _natblida,_ I hid Octavia under the floor. She hid for years, whenever there was a conclave, and I think… I think she got tired of hiding.” Bellamy wrung his hands together. “She started to resent me, after a while. I understand why - the older brother, I got to fight battles and travel, and when Mom died I got to be in charge, while she was never allowed to fight or go anywhere in case she injured herself and revealed her blood - but I never wanted to hurt her, I just… I only ever wanted to protect her.”

“That’s why you offered to marry me,” Clarke tilted her head. 

“Because you wanted to protect that little girl, even though you didn’t know her,” he confirmed. “Because to me, we’ve had enough good leaders, strong leaders, fighting leaders; what we need now are compassionate leaders, and I think you are one, _hainofi.”_

She toed at his calf, pulling his gaze to her. “What does that mean?”

“You’re gonna brush right past the compliment?”

“Yep, I want my curiosity sated; I’ve been thinking about it for four days,” she froze. “Wow. Four days.”

“Yeah.”

“I met you four days ago.”

“Yeah.”

“We’re married.”

He peered at her carefully. “Are you okay?”

“I’m… here,” she said, aware that her voice sounded more than a little thin. 

He smiled, compassionate, and offered his hand. When she took it, he pulled her forward, turning her around until she was sitting on the floor between his knees. He reached backwards for a pillow she could sit on, and once he was sure she was comfortable, he started taking her hair out. 

It was a long process - there were a lot of braids and ties and flowers and things she didn’t understand, but he seemed to know what he was doing. He was careful not to pull too hard, to run his fingers through every piece as he loosened it, to make sure every tie and flower were out before he finally let his hands fall to her shoulders. “Better?”

She hummed agreement, too content to formulate words. 

He chuckled and helped her to her feet, and he undid her dress and then turned to face the opposite wall while she shucked it off and pulled on the nightdress that she’d found in the chest. It smelled clean, floral, and she wondered if they were replaced every time people were married or if Lexa had someone leave it there today, knowing she wasn’t bringing her own clothes. She thought perhaps it might be the latter. 

When she turned around, Bellamy was already in bed, shirtless, covers pulled up to his waist, and she really hoped he was wearing underwear as she climbed in next to him. He was, thank god. He was reading, a few candles propped up on the shelf next to him so he could see the pages. The torch was going down. 

Clarke felt awkward. 

She’d never gone to sleep with someone before - with Finn, sure, and her girlfriend on the Ark, but that had been different - this wasn’t anything to do with love or lust, this was just… sleeping next to someone. Someone she’d have to sleep next to for a very long time. What if they weren’t compatible?

“I can hear you overthinking over Jane Austen,” he said, interrupting her internal spiralling. He closed the book, keeping a finger between the pages, and looked over at her. “What can I do to make this less stressful for you?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. 

“I’m not going to try and sleep with you,” he promised, yet again. 

“I know. Thank you.”

“Odd to be thanked for _not_ having sex with a woman, but I’ll take it,” he seemed to be trying to lighten the mood. “Is there something else? Some other reason you’re uncomfortable?”

“I… I’m not sure,” she worried her bottom lip, trying to work out why she was so on edge. 

“That guy, the one who shoved me - is he your boyfriend? Is that why you-”

“No!” Clarke said, emphatic. “No, absolutely not. He’s just overprotective. He doesn’t need to be, I’m fine, plus I’ve got Miller and Wells to be overprotective, I don’t need Finn as well.”

“Hm.” Bellamy seemed to be on the edge of saying something important, taking a breath like he was working up the nerve, and Clarke squinted at him in the dim light, waiting for whatever it was. “You’re my wife, and I know it’s an alliance, for peace, but I want you to know I’m going to respect that. If you decide that you need someone else in your life, I won’t blame you, and I’m sure we can make that work, but until that happens… I’m going to treat you as a partner the same way I would with a voluntary marriage. Does that work for you?”

“I’m not going to find someone else,” she said. “I’m in this.”

He huffed. “I’m not saying you’re going to try, I’m just saying- you never wanted this, and if you meet someone and you fall for them, I’m not going to stand in the way of that. I will remain faithful unless we discuss this arrangement and decide to look elsewhere, okay?”

Clarke fidgeted, looking over at him, at his earnest expression and the conviction in his gaze. It almost frightened her, how much he was trying. “Okay.”

He relaxed, uncoiling slightly. “Good.”

“Good,” she breathed in return. “You want to read some of that book to me?”

“Seriously?”

“If you don’t want to-”

“Do you want me to go from the start or from my place?”

“Wherever you like,” she said, letting her eyes fall closed. 

_“Anne Elliot, with all her claims of birth, beauty, and mind, to throw herself away at nineteen; involve herself at nineteen in an engagement with a young man, who had nothing but himself to recommend him, and no hopes of attaining affluence, but in the chances of a most uncertain profession, and no connections to secure even his farther rise in that profession; would be, indeed, a throwing away, which she grieved to think of,”_ Bellamy paused. “Ah. This might not be the best chapter to read right now.”

“No, no,” Clarke mumbled, already half asleep. “It’s fine.”

“Are you sure? This feels a little weird,” he said. 

She just hummed a yes. 

“Alright. If you’re sure,” he cleared his throat quietly, resuming his reading. _“Anne Elliot, so young; known to so few, to be snatched off by a stranger without alliance or fortune; or rather sunk by him into a state of most wearing, anxious, youth-killing dependence…”_ Clarke drifted in and out of the sentences, catching fragments of the story as she told it, but the parts she heard painted a sad tale, and she fell asleep with Bellamy’s voice washing over her, weaving Anne Elliot’s woeful tale. _“...Captain Wentworth had no fortune. He had been lucky in his profession, but spending freely… He had always been lucky; he knew he should be so still… It only added a dangerous character to himself. He was brilliant, he was headstrong. Lady Russell had little taste for wit… She deprecated the connection in every light.”_

Clarke decided she liked hearing his voice in her ears. 

* * *

She woke up with light streaming onto her face.

“Urgh,” she groaned, scrunching her eyes shut further, trying to block it out, and she rolled over to bury her face in her pillow and instead rolled right into somebody’s arm. 

Right. 

The wedding. 

The alliance. 

_Bellamy._

“Morning,” he said gruffly, sounding a little more cognizant than she did. 

“Is it? I hadn’t noticed,” she groaned, pressing her face against his shoulder, uncaring in her haste to avoid the light. 

He made a noise that could have been a laugh. “Not a morning person, noted.”

“I am, actually,” she said, muffled. “Or, I used to be, I guess. But lately, since we’ve been on the ground, I’ve been staying up late, sleeping less. I still get up early but it’s harder than it used to be.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he said, and she became acutely aware that his fingers were trailing up and down her spine absentmindedly while he spoke, bunching the material of her nightdress. “There’s no rush to be anywhere today, but I suggest we get back to your camp soon so we can adjust your people to the idea of becoming a part of mine.”

Clarke sighed loudly as she pushed herself into a sitting position, looking down at him. His curls were mussed from sleep but they somehow suited him _more_ that way, and she had the idle thought that no-one should look that good when they’d just woken up. He was reading again, much further into the book, at least a third, and she wondered where he was up to when she fell asleep. She shook her head and swung her legs out onto the floor, looking for her clothes. “Come on then, let’s go.”

“You want to eat breakfast first? Take a moment? Wake up a bit more?”

“Nope, let’s get this over with,” she said, spying her bag in the corner and feeling relieved that she had her own pants to get back into instead of that dress. 

“You’re really taking all the romance out of this,” he deadpanned, but when she turned around to retort, he was already on his feet, dragging a shirt over his head. 

On their way back to the Dropship, they discussed their plan of action - Bellamy thought they should move into the valley, Clarke knew the delinquents wouldn’t go for it. They went back and forth for a while until they arrived at the gates and Clarke waved up at Roma who sent the signal down to open the door. 

As it opened, people rushed out to greet her; Jasper in the lead, tugging her into an excited hug, and then Monty, Miller, Harper, and Wells who approached slower, the baby on his hip. He side-hugged her before he passed the baby over and Clarke bounced her in her arms, cooing at her. 

Bellamy leaned closer, looking at the child. “She’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Clarke murmured. 

“What’s her name?”

“I don’t know.”

“You haven’t named her?” 

“It didn’t seem right,” she said, cuddling the girl to her chest as she glanced up at Bellamy’s interested expression. “She wasn’t mine, I didn’t want to name her before I knew her; it felt too much like ownership. I don’t want to own her.”

His expression flickered, unreadable. “You’re _something, hainofi.”_

“You must be her husband,” Wells said cheekily, holding his hand out for Bellamy to shake. “Last time I saw you, you were lying on a cot in our medical tent.”

“Not my favourite day,” Bellamy flashed a friendly smile. “I’m guessing you’re Wells?”

“Good to know I’m still Clarke’s favourite person,” he replied, winking. “Yeah, that’s me. You’ve already met Miller and Monty, but this is Harper, and the excitable puppy you see bouncing around is Jasper.”

“I can’t believe you got _married!”_ Jasper squealed, as if to punctuate the statement. 

“Me neither,” she said, clapping him on the back. “Come on, let’s go inside, we need to get everyone together.”

“Already done,” Miller said, and as they walked through the doors, she realised it was true - every delinquent in the camp was crowded just inside, expressions ranging from annoyed to curious to excited. She balanced the baby on her hip and raised her voice so everyone could hear when she spoke. 

“I assume by now that all of you know about what I had to do to keep us safe-”

“Doesn’t look like it was much of a hardship for you,” Murphy interrupted, eyes trailing down Bellamy’s person. 

“Shut up, Murphy,” Clarke rolled her eyes. “This is Bellamy. He’s the leader of the Shallow Valley Clan, and because of our union, we are all now part of that clan, which means the other grounders will no longer attack us without reason. We’ve talked it over, and we’ve decided that anyone who wants to stay at the dropship is welcome to, but Shallow Valley has plenty of space, and resources, and they’re willing to accommodate all of us. We’re going to start moving there in groups, so we’re not overwhelming them, and so that any of us that wish to remain here don’t feel forced into moving. So. Any volunteers to leave first?”

A bunch of hands lifted in the air - over half of the delinquents. 

“Okay, go over to Monty and he’ll put your name down, and we’ll randomly draw so everyone gets a fair chance. Once we’ve drawn names, we’re leaving after breakfast. Raven, Finn and Monty are staying here, at the Dropship, to make sure everything runs smoothly and to act in my absence - they’re in charge. I’ll obviously travel back and forth, but if I’m not here, they are. Anyone have a problem with that?”

The crowd all shook their heads, and she didn’t hear any dissenting voices, although she did notice Finn’s petulant scowl and chose to ignore it. 

“Good!” Clarke looked to Bellamy. “Do you have anything to say?”

He smiled and faced the crowd. “Hi. Some of you might recognise me already, but I was here once before; I want you to know that I’m not here to take over. Clarke is still your leader, I’m just here to help. My clan never fought with yours, we were just caught in the middle. I want to move forward, to build something better from our two peoples.”

“I like him,” Wells said, appearing at Clarke’s side once more. 

“I know,” she muttered. “I think I do too.”

* * *

Not an hour later, the first party set out for Shallow Valley. 

Raven had managed to fashion communication radios from the remains of her ship’s radio - ones that would enable them to keep in contact despite the distance - although she’d still had no luck reaching the Ark. That was a whole different beast altogether. Bellamy suggested there might be bunkers near his village that would have some tech they could use, and Raven looked like she was about to propose marriage, which would have been awkward. 

The first group had thirty delinquents, Miller, Murphy, Wells and Harper among them. Jasper had chosen to stay behind with Monty, not to mention Clarke’s recommendation for his health; he didn’t need to go on a long hike when he was only just recovered from a spear wound to the chest.

They walked, Bellamy leading the way with Clarke at his side. 

Clarke fed the baby with the pureed vegetables Monty had packed for her, and Bellamy offered to carry her when her arms got tired. At first, she refused, but after the third hour, she let him take her off her hands, and for the next few hours he kept her entertained while Clarke gave her arms a rest. 

Wells and Miller stayed towards the front, chatting intermittently to her, and occasionally Bellamy, and then, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, they started up a long incline and finally, _finally,_ reached the top, looking out over the valley.

“You failed to mention this was gonna be a fourteen hour walk,” Murphy panted, looking unimpressed. 

“I didn’t really think about it,” Bellamy shrugged. “Usually we use horses.”

“You disgust me,” he grunted. The baby giggled and Murphy rounded on her, annoyance edged with a teasing lilt to his voice. “You disgust me too, cheapskate. Learn to walk like the rest of us _.”_

The baby, who had been passed between Clarke and Bellamy so much that she had begun to think it was a game, only gurgled happily. 

“Leave her alone and get to walking,” Clarke nudged him forward. “Not long now.”

“Only twenty minutes to my village from here,” Bellamy called out, loud enough for everyone to hear, and Clarke heard some significant groans of relief. 

He wasn’t wrong; they arrived at the edge of a village exactly twenty minutes later, and were greeted by a surge of grounders in brightly coloured clothes, far more welcoming than any Ice Nation regalia. 

_“Monin gon oso hou,”_ people seemed to be saying as they passed. 

“What does that mean?” Clarke asked.

Bellamy smiled warmly as a woman came up to greet him. “Welcome to our home.”

* * *

There were empty huts for them. Twenty empty huts scattered throughout the village for their people to move into. Clarke suggested they start in pairs, and people quickly grouped off and allowed villagers to lead them towards their new homes. Roma and Monroe, Fox and Harper, Miller and Sterling. Wells was busy helping everyone into their pairs, so by the time he realised that there was only one other person left he could be paired with, it was too late. 

“Aw, Jaha, why the long face?” Murphy asked, tossing his backpack through the doors of their hut. “You know you’ve just been _waiting_ to get me alone.”

“Gross,” he replied, but he followed him into the hut all the same. He would have to get used to it.

Once everyone else was getting situated, Clarke felt Bellamy’s presence at her shoulder. She looked up only to see that he was enraptured with the baby’s tired little smile. She felt something stir in her chest at it, but she quickly refocussed. “How are your people handling everything?”

“Our people,” he corrected. “It’s an adjustment, but they’ll get used to it.”

“Yeah, that seems to be the general consensus,” Clarke agreed. “Where do you live?”

“Sorry?”

“I assume I’m living with you,” she raised an eyebrow. 

He cleared his throat, tilting his head closer. “You don’t have to. There’s no-one here to enforce-”

“And what if Lexa makes a surprise visit? Or Anya? Besides, we’re in this together, we may as well get used to spending time together.” She readjusted the girl in her arms so she could turn and look at him properly. “I don’t have a problem with it.”

“You sure?”

She poked her elbow into his side, moving him forward. “Lead the way.”

His hut was a little bigger; there was a dividing room between the bedroom and the bathroom, and there seemed to be some kind of office with a large desk and weapons against the wall, separate from the other rooms. 

Bellamy deposited her bag on the floor by the bed while Clarke explored. The bathroom was small, but it had a bath - which reminded her, she hadn’t ever gotten around to using the bath the night before - and she couldn’t wait to use this one. She peered into the office - it looked like the place Bellamy did most of his planning, before she finally turned back to the main room, and the large bed covered in fur blankets and coloured pillows. 

“These are pretty,” she picked one up, inspecting it. 

“We dye them,” he said, like it was no big deal. To him, she supposed, it wasn’t, but she’d never hand-dyed anything, and the cushions were gorgeous. 

He ducked into the bathroom for a while and she sat down on the mattress with the baby in her lap, feeding her and watching the way her eyes lit up at all the colours. For the first time, Clarke felt like she could draw breath without looking over her shoulder. 

She pulled the radio from her backpack. “Dropship? Come in, Dropship?”

“Hey Griffin, how’s it hanging?”

“It’s nice,” she said, looking around the room once more, taking it in. It really was. “I think we’ll like it here. How’s things there?”

“Not bad - we’re keeping things kosher. Monty and I have fried another wristband trying to call the Ark, we’ve got two left; we might have to take Bellamy up on his offer of sorting through the bunkers near his village, see if they’ve got anything that could help.”

“I’m sure they will,” Clarke said, going for optimism.

“How’s moving in with the grounder hunk going?” 

“Raven,” Clarke hissed, glancing towards the bathroom, but she didn’t hear anything. 

“What? He’s hot, and I have no problems admitting that,” she paused. “So why do you?”

“Leave it alone, Rae, I’m tired, we walked for fifteen hours today, and then I had to field arguments on house assignments. There are still about six places left, but Bellamy says his people will teach ours how to build more. I’m thinking we’ll come back to the Dropship to pick up more of you next week, as long as nothing gets in the way.”

“Sounds good. We’ll keep trying to reach the Ark in the meantime, and we’ll try to keep people from getting too restless,” she promised. 

“Take care of yourself, Rae,” she said quietly. 

“You too, Griffin. Say hello to Hot Stuff for me,” and with that she signed off. 

Clarke put the radio to the side and let the baby play with her fingers while she tried to work out how many more huts they’d need to build for all the delinquents, how much more food the village would need, how things would change when everyone else came down. 

“You’re thinking too loud again,” Bellamy appeared at the end of the bed. 

“Sorry,” she smiled. 

He put his hands on his hips. “You have anywhere to be?”

She thought it over. “No, I don’t think so, unless anyone needs me, why?”

He grinned. “I’ll look after the baby, go have a bath.”

“What?”

“I saw you eyeing that thing last night, c’mon, you need the rest,” he said, prying the girl from her arms while she tried to come up with reasons not to. He shook his head. “I’m not taking no for an answer, you deserve to relax, even if it’s just for an hour.”

“It won’t be an hour,” she retorted.

“Will it convince you if I tell you that you smell?”

“No, because I don’t,” she folded her arms. “No more than you - why don’t _you_ take a bath?”

“Because I can always take one. Just… take the bath, _hainofi,”_ he huffed. “It’s hot now, if we keep arguing it’ll go cold and then all the time I spent making it will be wasted.”

“What?” she got to her feet and poked her head into the bathroom; he was telling the truth, there was steam rising out of the tub, and there seemed to be hot rocks underneath it, keeping it warm. “You made me a bath?”

“I told you, you stink,” he jested. 

“No, I don’t,” she retorted.

“No, you don’t,” he smiled softly, sitting down on the edge of the bed with the baby. “Take some time for yourself, _hainofi,_ the village isn’t going anywhere.”

Clarke had run out of reasons not to accept, and she found that she was relieved, closing the bathroom door behind her and shedding her clothes. She dipped her toe in the water - it was _perfect,_ and it wasn’t long before she was sinking into the tub, letting the water soak into her tense muscles. 

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the metal rim, pressing the knots out as she rolled her neck. Her heart thrummed contentedly, and she moved a little further down, letting the water reach her cheeks. This was the best she had felt in a long, long time. 

So, naturally-

“Bellamy, you fucking idiot, what the hell are you playing at?!” A sharp, female voice cut through Clarke’s relaxation. 

“O, keep your voice down,” Bellamy chided. 

“You _married_ some _stranger_ and you didn’t even think to ask what I would think about it?”

“There wasn’t really time-”

“You almost got yourself killed for these people and now you’re welcoming them into your village? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“It’s not-”

“And you’re taking care of this child now? Where is she, probably swanning through the village, ordering your people around while you sit here with this baby you’re now saddled with. You know what a stupid decision this is, right?” There was a long pause, before, “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, is it my turn to speak now?” he replied archly. 

“Don’t be a jackass.”

“I did the right thing, and you know it.”

The woman started to say something in their language, and he cut her off, voice rising, and they swung into a full argument in that clipped, harsh language that Clarke was still no closer to understanding. She felt like she was intruding somehow, even though she couldn’t make out anything beyond a few words, and she sunk further into the bath, submerging her head completely and blocking her ears. 

When she sat up, their arguing was dulled by the water, and she felt a little better about it. 

Until it switched back to English. 

“She’s not like that, Octavia _,”_ Bellamy said, harsh. 

“You’ve known her for a day.”

“She’s _not,”_ he reiterated, like it was the end of the discussion, but Octavia didn’t get the memo. 

“What do you really know about her? I mean _really?_ She’s the leader of these strangers that crashed into our land, and she stole a child-”

“Rescued a child.”

“So she says,” she sniffed. 

“So _I_ say,” he said, anger clouding his tone, and Clarke decided it was probably time to make her presence known. So much for a relaxing hour. 

She climbed out of the tub, towelling herself off, and reached for the robe that hung by the sink, one she assumed was Bellamy’s due to its size. She managed to cover herself, bunching it up under the tie, and exited the bathroom. 

What she found was Bellamy, balancing the distressed looking baby on his hip, facing off with a ferocious, dark-haired woman in the center of the room, and as she stepped out they both swung to face her, cutting themselves off mid-sentence. Bellamy looked guilty, but Octavia’s face didn’t change. 

“Hi,” Clarke said, boldly refusing to feel intimidated. She walked over and took the baby from Bellamy’s arm, which must have been getting tired, and cuddled her to her chest, soothing her gently. She glanced up. “You must be Bellamy’s sister.”

A vein was popping in Octavia’s temple, and her expression held nothing but contempt. “You must be the bitch he married.”

“Hey! Enough!” Bellamy growled, stepping between them. “If you can’t treat her with respect, you leave.”

“You’re taking her side?”

“There _aren’t_ any sides, there’s just _you,_ coming into my home and picking a fight with my _wife,”_ he said, clearly trying not to raise his voice again. 

“Bell-”

“You’ve made your opinions on my marriage very clear, Octavia. You can stay for dinner, meet Clarke, meet her people, and _then_ make a decision, or you can leave.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore anymore, Big Brother.”

“I’m not trying to control you, I’m giving you a choice.”

“Okay!” Clarke stepped between them, staring Bellamy down until he looked away. She turned her gaze on Octavia. “We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot. I’m not trying to usurp your brother, I’m not here to hurt anyone, and I’m definitely not making him do anything he doesn’t want to do. My people and I are here at his mercy, and I respect that. I have no interest in doing anything to jeopardise this alliance, and I certainly don’t want to cause a rift between the two of you.”

“Don’t worry, _hainofi,_ it was already there,” Bellamy muttered. 

_“Hainofi,”_ Octavia scoffed. “You’re pathetic.”

“I’m sorry you don’t like me,” Clarke said, ignoring the bitter glare being directed her way. “But unless you tell me what I can do to fix that, we can’t move forward.”

“You can start by not marrying my brother.”

“I don’t have a time machine, so that’s not going to happen.”

“Then I guess there’s nothing you can do,” she said, and with a swish of her ponytail, she stormed from the place, leaving a vacuum of silence in her way. 

Clarke watched her go, and behind her she felt Bellamy slump. She turned, and he looked how she felt; completely drained. He was leaning against the wall, pinching the bridge of his nose, and she moved to his side, bumping her shoulder against his. 

“She seems nice,” she deadpanned. 

He snorted humourlessly. “Yeah, she’s a delight.”

“I’m sorry I made her angry at you.”

He shook his head. “No, that’s not your fault. It’s her problem, she just… she can’t understand the decisions I make that don’t involve going on the offensive. She thinks the peaceful choice is the weak choice. She’ll get over it, she just needs some time; give it a month and she’ll visit with her husband, all smiles, like nothing happened.”

“I suppose-” Clarke started, but the baby sniffled and then began crying, like a delayed reaction to the argument she’d witnessed, and Clarke held her closer, rocking her to calm her down. “It’s okay baby, it’s alright.”

Bellamy helped, stroking the back of the girl’s head until her crying subsided. “You know,” he murmured, thumb brushing the side of her tiny ear. “We really should give her a name.”

“Yeah?” Clarke asked, voice low. 

“Yeah,” he met her eye, brown into blue. “I know you don’t want to feel like you own her, but I don’t think anyone could argue that you’re her mother now. And if she’s part of our clan, then I think she deserves a name. We can’t just keep calling her ‘baby’.” 

“True,” Clarke giggled. “Alright… what do you think?”

“She’s _your_ daughter.”

“She’s _our_ daughter,” Clarke corrected. “Sorry, but you’re kind of stuck with us both now.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he joked. “Alright, we’ll choose something together.”

“We could name her after someone we care about? After your mother?”

He smiled sadly. “That’s kind of you, but I think my mother would want us to choose something for us.”

“Anne?” Clarke suggested. “After that book?”

“Artemis?”

“Rosaline?”

“Hera?”

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed what you’re doing,” she said, and his responding smile lit up his whole face. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Alice,” she tried. 

“Vesta.”

“Stop suggesting Greek Gods,” she smacked his chest with the back of her hand.

“Actually Vesta was Roman.”

“I hate you,” she complained. “We’re gonna be here forever.”

“How about… Olivia?” 

She paused. “Olivia? Where did that come from?”

“Shakespeare, I think,” he said. “But also it’s Greek - shut up - it’s Greek for olive tree, and I figure she’s sort of the symbol of the olive branch between our people. She brought us together, in her own unique way.”

“You want to name her after a treaty?” Clarke squinted at him.

He held up his hands. “That’s all I got, sorry.”

Clarke looked back down at the baby, at her chubby little cheeks and bright hazel eyes. “It’s better than anything else we’ve come up with yet. What do you think, baby girl, do you like Olivia?”

She clapped her hands together and babbled at both of them.

“I’m gonna take that as a yes,” Bellamy grinned.

“For all we know, she’s cursing us both out right now,” Clarke said. 

“Yeah, but she’s doing it with a smile,” he sighed. “Unlike the other girl I helped raise.” 

Clarke passed Olivia over to him and he relaxed slightly with the girl in his arms. She squeezed his elbow placatingly. "I'm going to get dressed. You sticking around?"

He nodded, too enraptured with Olivia to so much as glance at her and she couldn't help but watch them as she grabbed her clothes from where they were hanging and headed back towards the bathroom. She didn't want to jinx it, but for the first time, she felt like she might have a place to call home. It was a disconcerting feeling. 

* * *

Late in the day, when they were sitting on the floor entertaining Olivia and discussing their best plan for integrating their cultures, something musical - bells, and a horn - sounded from outside, and Clarke didn’t have a chance to ask what it was before Bellamy grabbed her hand and led her out into the center of the village. 

In the clearing there were massive tables laden with food, and people were adding more to it, bringing plates up before retreating. People were talking, laughing, looking more peaceful than anything Clarke had seen on the ground. A middle-aged woman with a sunny disposition greeted Clarke and nodded to Bellamy. “Your people have missed your presence in the evenings.”

“I know, Emiliana, I’m sorry,” he squeezed her hand. “How are Shelley and Jules?”

“They’re growing into fine young scavengers,” she said, sounding proud. “Who’s this new little one?”

“Olivia,” he said, sliding his arm around Clarke’s shoulders to bring her and the baby closer. “My wife rescued her. Took her in when she found her abandoned in the forest.”

“How dreadful for a child to go through such an ordeal,” Emiliana tutted. She smiled at Clarke. “You did a good thing.”

“Thank you,” she felt oddly self-conscious. “I’m Clarke. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Oh my dear, you’re going to be meeting everyone tonight,” she teased. “I’m sure you’ll be exhausted of saying that by the time the feast ends.” 

Bellamy laughed, and explained to her, “We do this as often as possible - a feast for the whole clan - and welcoming new people into the village is the perfect excuse for people to turn it into a party.”

As he said that, music started playing and people started for the table, sharing the food around and dancing away to avoid causing a ruckus. A group of small kids were trying to drag Miller and Murphy into dancing with them. 

“You know the boys,” Emiliana said. “They can’t resist a gathering.”

Wells sidled over, “This is wonderful.”

“It’s certainly nicer than anything we’ve seen in a while,” Harper agreed, carrying a plate that was stacked with food, practically overflowing. “When I tried to limit my portions, someone heaped more on my plate.”

“We do that,” Emiliana smiled. 

“I’m not complaining,” Harper said, shoving a large piece of meat in her mouth. 

Clarke snorted, catching Bellamy’s eye when she looked away, and he looked just as amused but he was hiding it better than she was. His hand on her shoulder tightened ever so slightly, checking in, making sure if she was okay. She nodded, and he relaxed, looking over her head to his people. 

“Come on _hainofi,_ let’s get some food.”

“One of these days, you’re going to tell me what that means.”

“I’m sure you can figure it out,” he smirked. “In the meantime, we better get to the table before Murphy steals all the tomatoes.”

* * *

Emiliana was right; by the end of the night, Clarke was beyond exhausted, and she was worried about falling asleep on her way back to Bellamy’s. Luckily, he was there to guide her. 

In fact, he’d been there all night. 

He’d barely left her side unless explicitly called away, and he was soon back again, hand finding its way to her back or her waist, and she wondered if it was for show, to make his people understand this union was permanent, or if he didn’t even realise he was doing it. 

Her foot caught on a root in the dark and she stumbled, saved only by his arms around her. 

“Alright, _hainofi,_ I think it’s time for bed,” he said, right before he scooped her up into his arms. She yelped, holding tighter to Olivia, but the baby seemed unbothered, already asleep herself. Bellamy didn’t even seem to be breaking a sweat carrying them both, so Clarke rested her head on his shoulder and let herself drift in and out of sleep until she felt him lie her down over the covers. 

He extracted Olivia from her arms and disappeared.

She blinked a bleary eye open, seeing him bending over a crib that definitely hadn’t been there when they’d left for the feast, which meant someone had placed it there afterwards. That was kind.

Bellamy turned around to see her watching him, and he shuffled closer so he could take off her shoes. “You want to sleep in your clothes?”

“Don’t care.”

“You’re fully dressed.”

“Don’t care.”

“You’re wearing jeans.”

She sat up. “Okay I do care.”

“That’s what I thought,” there was a smile in his voice, and she thought it might be at her expense, but she was too busy dragging her pants down her legs and kicking them to the floor. She removed her jacket as well, leaving her in a shirt and her underwear, and she pulled her bra off from underneath the shirt and tossed it over the chair nearest her. Bellamy was still standing in front of her, hands on his hips. “You through?”

“Yep,” she mumbled, and crawled under the covers. 

He chuckled, climbing in next to her, and she realised he must have gotten changed into his own night clothes at some point. Had she fallen asleep again?

She heard the unmistakable sound of a page turning. 

“Read to me?” she asked, not even certain she’d managed to say it aloud. She must have, however, because it didn’t take long for Bellamy to start reading in that gravelly voice of his, and she made herself more comfortable against the pillow, limbs heavy. 

_“It was the highest satisfaction to her to believe Captain Wentworth not in the least aware of the pain he was occasioning. There was no triumph…”_ the words drifted into the ether as Clarke succumbed to sleep, completely out for the first time since they’d arrived on the ground - nothing to keep her half-awake, looking over her shoulder. 

In the early hours of the morning, a noise broke through her reverie. Olivia was crying. She felt her brain trying to wake up but it was like walking through quicksand, and then something stirred at her side and she must have made a noise, because she felt something against her hairline, and the soft words, “I’ve got her, Clarke, go back to sleep.”

The last thought she had before she let unconsciousness claim her once more was that she’d never heard him say her name before, and that she might just give anything to hear him say it again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what do you think? What's gonna happen in the second half? Will it become another one of talis's starts-as-two-parts-ends-as-three-parts fics? POSSIBLY! especially since the ANGST really picks up in the second part *eyes emoji*
> 
> i hope you're enjoying it so far!


	2. i need what i need (and i say what i mean)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke is in love with Bellamy, Bellamy is in love with Clarke, but boy do these kids need to learn some communication skills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I took a break from writing fic for a while because of the BLM movement and various other things happening in the world that required a huge chunk of my attention and emotional energy and then around the time I was getting back into it again, the cast stuff happened and I needed another week off. 
> 
> However, I do not associate these characters solely with the actors who play them - for me, these are completely separate people - and I understand other people may not be able to do the same, but I love Bellamy and Clarke too much to give them up, especially considering they've helped me through so much of my own real life trauma, so I'm back on the bellarke train for now (let's see how the finale goes, anyway) 
> 
> I hope you're all doing okay, despite the insane state of the world and everything going on, and I'm sending a lot of love and acceptance out to all of you who might feel alone or lost or betrayed in these shitty ass times - me (and my fics) are always here to lend some encouragement.
> 
> also. yes, i know i upped the chapter count to 3 chapters. don't look at me :))))

The first few weeks in Shallow Valley were surprisingly easy. 

The delinquents settled in well, much to Clarke’s delight, and before long, Harper was learning hand-to-hand combat from the warriors and she and Miller were teaching them how to use guns. Wells helped Emiliana organise scavenging parties, and even Murphy didn’t seem to have anything overly negative to say. 

Clarke kept in constant radio contact with Raven, Monty and Finn, and while the former two were ecstatic that everything was going so well, Finn seemed to be getting more and more irate by the day. She tried not to think about it. 

The second party of delinquents arrived on the third week, and they slotted in just as easily as the first. 

She and Bellamy had travelled back to the Dropship on horseback, Olivia taking turns wrapped around each of them in a papoose so they had their arms free, and Clarke marvelled at how routine it had become, caring for a child with someone who used to be a stranger. Halfway to the Dropship, they’d stumbled across an old vehicle, half-inside a cave and covered in a sheet that dropped dust when Clarke yanked it away. 

“Do you know what this is?” 

Bellamy observed it, adjusting the sling as he straightened, making sure Olivia was okay. “Some kind of vehicle.”

“It’s a rover,” Clarke grinned, looking for a power source. “If we can get this up and running, it’ll be less time to travel back and forth, more capacity to carry things, more protection from the elements - this is perfect.”

She walked around the rover, noting the solar panels. 

“I think if we pull this end of the car outside the cave, it’ll charge,” she said. 

There were keys hanging over the rear view mirror in the cabin of the car, and she pondered how to get in without breaking anything, trying the driver’s side door. It was locked. She walked back around to the passenger side with no luck, but she quickly realised the back door was unlocked, and climbed inside to snatch the keys. When she stepped out of the car, she realised Bellamy was standing in the mouth of the cave, staring at her with mirth in his gaze. 

She let the keys dangle between her fingers as she returned to the horses and took the reins from his hand. “What?”

“Nothing,” he turned to mount his horse, hiding a smile. 

“What?” she repeated, tucking the keys into her bag before she climbed onto her own. 

“No, it’s just… nice to see you excited about something,” he clicked his tongue and tugged the reins and then he was ahead of her, and she followed, quickly coming back into step with him. 

The trip back to the Dropship felt shorter after that, Clarke’s energy boosted by the discovery of the rover, and when they arrived in the early afternoon, Raven, Monty and Finn were waiting for them. 

“Hey stranger,” Monty pulled her into a hug first. 

“It’s only been a few weeks,” she said, but she hugged him back just as tight. 

“Weeks on the ground are longer,” Raven joked, dragging her into a side-hug while Monty went to greet Bellamy and entertain Olivia. Finn walked up next, holding her just a little too long before he stepped away. Raven’s smile froze on her face and Clarke felt guilty despite not doing anything wrong, and she was about to say something, searching for the right thing that would smooth it over, but before she could, Bellamy appeared at her side once more. 

“Hey Raven, how’s the radioing going?”

“Not great. We’re out of wristbands, so some new tech would come in handy,” she turned with a swish of her ponytail, walking them back into camp. “Didn’t you promise me bunkers?”

Bellamy grinned. “I did, but we’ve been a little busy.”

“We’ll go looking this week,” Clarke promised. “Oh, speaking of discovering old tech - we found a Rover today.”

“A what?” Monty asked.

“An old car,” she gushed. “If we can get it up and running it’ll be _perfect_ \- it’ll make moving around so much easier.”

“You seem excited,” Mbege said as he passed, carrying some kind of meat towards the firepit. 

Clarke ducked her head, embarrassed, and Bellamy snorted, leaning closer behind her so she couldn’t see his smile. She smacked his arm and it only made things worse. His expression made Olivia giggle wildly, and then Monty was stifling his laughter and she scrunched up her nose at them. “I hate you guys, this is a good thing.”

“No-one’s denying that,” Monty reassured her. “It’s just funny seeing you so positive about something - I’m not sure I’ve seen you smile more than once in the entire time I’ve known you.”

“That can’t be true.”

Finn shrugged at her, “Face it Princess; you’re serious.”

Clarke harrumphed and turned the conversation back to more important things as they organised the next part of delinquents to take them back to Shallow Valley, but things felt tenser after that, and Bellamy was slower to smile for the rest of the day. She wondered what that was about. She tried to convince herself he was still adjusting to the people, but she knew it was more to do with the way Finn stayed by her side until they left, and the way he said _‘Princess’_ like he was still allowed, even after she’d told him not to. 

* * *

Barely a few days back in the valley with more delinquents, it felt normal, routine, to see Mbege and Connor talking to Jules over breakfast, or groups of delinquent girls learning from grounder women. 

Raven and Monty were getting ready to move the entire camp over, abandoning the Dropship and taking everything with them, and they mentioned an idea to turn the empty structure into a kind of satellite dish, wiring up the whole ship in an attempt to contact the Ark. It was a good plan, but one that required more tech that they didn’t have, so Bellamy and Wells started going out to the various bunkers dotted around the valley to search for the things Raven said she needed. 

The grounders were starting to look to Clarke more and more; especially as she worked in the medical structure - and it takes a lot of trust to let a stranger cut into you - it didn’t take long for them to warm up to her, and soon she was being asked to offer her opinion alongside Bellamy’s. The same was happening with the delinquents - whenever she was busy with Olivia, they seemed comfortable asking Bellamy for help. 

Not to mention they’d got the Rover up and running, so travelling between the two camps became a breeze, and bringing Raven a car full of technology was the fastest way to get a hug and a smile that lasted for hours. Monty started travelling back and forth with them, helping Bellamy and Wells on their bunker trips because he was more likely to know what they were supposed to be looking for. 

Of course, Monty being around more meant that he and Miller had more time to team up and tease her, and it really didn’t help when Wells joined in. She was just glad it hadn’t reached Murphy yet - then she’d really never hear the end of it. 

“You like him,” Monty said again, shit-eating grin on his face. 

“Of course I like him,” Clarke made a face. 

“No, you _like_ him.”

“You wanna have his babies,” Miller teased.

“No, I don’t,” Clarke sighed. 

“Just admit it; you think he’s hot.”

“That’s because I have _eyes_ ,” she said, already exasperated. “It has nothing to do with any other feelings to acknowledge that he’s attractive. He is. That doesn’t change the fact that we have a strategic marriage for an _alliance,_ not to mention we have to integrate our people and raise a child, so even if I did have feelings for him, I wouldn’t have the time to pursue them. Whether he’s objectively hot or not has no bearing on me.”

There was a pause. 

“You also get this little crinkle above your nose when he’s telling Olivia stories,” Wells chimed in. Clarke let her head fall into her hands. 

“It’s cute, really,” Miller said.

“Endearing,” Monty agreed. 

_“I hate you guys.”_

Life was slowly moving forward, leaving the strife of their first months on the ground behind them. It was actually beginning to feel _so_ easy that Clarke felt anxiety creeping up her spine. She didn’t trust the peace, it felt like she was just waiting for something bad to happen, no matter how much Wells tried to assuage her. She tried not to let Bellamy know how worried she was because she _knew_ it was irrational, but she knew he noticed. He tried to cheer her up; he brought her fresh fruit while she was at work in the medical tent and he warmed baths up for her at least once a week, and she wished she could return the favour somehow, but she didn’t know what he would like. She resolved to ask someone in the village. 

Once a month had passed, Bellamy started getting awkward around her, not touching her as much, and she wondered if perhaps his actions had been for show, if he’d only been keeping his hands on her waist to prove to everyone they were truly married. But then, he touched her in private too; a palm against her back as he brushed past her, a hand on her shoulder when she rocked Olivia, the way he made sure she went back to sleep, stroking her arm when it was his turn to wake in the night. And now he wasn’t even doing that. He was keeping his distance, and it confused her. 

Right up until one morning, sometime in the fifth week. 

“Is it me?” he asked, while she was getting dressed. 

“Hm?” she turned around, pulling her shirt down. She’d become much less self-conscious about being undressed in front of him since that first night, although they both had yet to see the other completely naked. 

“Is it me?” he repeated. “Am I the reason you’re still uncomfortable?”

“No!” Clarke rushed to reassure him, putting a hand on his bare chest, which was definitely a mistake because it was more than a little distracting. “No, of course not, I’m just… I have a hard time relaxing.”

“I’ve noticed,” he ran a hand through his hair. “But it’s been over a month and you seem… tense.”

She smiled, placating, and tugged his hand away from his curls, knowing he only did that when he was worried. She tangled their fingers together and it seemed to help, bringing his gaze back to hers. “It’s not you, I promise. I just have this feeling that something bad is going to happen. It’s just a remnant from the dropship days, it’ll take a while to shake.”

The tension that had been sitting in his shoulders for over a week fell away and he exhaled slowly. “Oh. Okay.”

She smiled up at him, “You didn’t seriously think it was something you did, did you?”

“You didn’t want to marry me-”

“Someday soon you’re gonna have to forget that fact, because I _am_ married to you, and I don’t have any plans to get out of it. You’re stuck with me,” she said. A flicker of a smile crossed his face and he looked like he was going to say something, but before he could, Murphy poked his head around the door. 

“I don’t mean to interrupt your sweet lovemaking-”

“Don’t be a jackass.”

“-but there’s a messenger here from Trikru that wants to see you both.”

“We’ll be out in a minute,” Clarke said, looking for her boots. 

“Don’t take too long, Princess, or people will start to think you’re _actually_ having morning sex in here.”

“I will throw this at you,” she turned around, brandishing her shoe, and he flashed a wolfish grin and disappeared. She rolled her eyes, sitting down to put her boots on, and it took her a moment to realise that Bellamy was staring at her strangely. “What’s up?” 

“I didn’t know you’d figured it out,” he frowned. 

“Figured what out?”

“Hainofi.”

She hesitated. “I haven’t.”

“So why do Finn and Murphy call you that?”

Realisation struck her and she felt a blush rising in her cheeks. She bit her lip, looking up at him. “All this time, you’ve been calling me _Princess?”_

It was his turn to blush, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, yeah.”

“Why?”

“When I was recovering, I dreamed a lot. Mostly feverish, incomprehensible, but you bled through, while you were taking care of me. You were a Princess from one of the old stories I used to read to my sister. I can’t remember which one, I just remember her long blonde hair. When I woke up and you told me you were in charge, it just seemed… fitting, I don’t know.”

“You’ve been called me _Princess,”_ she repeated, and stood up to get closer to his sheepish expression. 

He swallowed, leaning back so he could see her properly. “So if you didn’t work it out, why are they calling you that?”

“Oh, they always have - most of the delinquents did,” she shrugged. “Ever since we landed - _Princess of the Ark -_ it wasn’t a nice nickname; my mother was one of the elite, and so was I, I suppose, up on the Ark, so when I was sent down here with the rest of the delinquents they assumed I was just an airhead, upper deck, princess. Now it’s pretty much only Murphy and he only uses it to tease me.”

“Finn doesn’t say it like that,” Bellamy said quietly. 

He was right. Every time Finn radioed in, he sounded more and more frustrated at the distance, sometimes asking Clarke if she needed him, or even occasionally suggested returning to the Dropship early. It was beginning to reach the point where Clarke was worried Raven was going to resent her, but she _had_ told Finn to move on - that she was married, that he was with Raven - and it wasn’t her fault that he couldn’t seem to get over it. 

“I’ve asked Finn to stop,” she admitted. “He… we had… we almost had something, a while ago, but Raven came down and she’s his girlfriend, so it… ended. It wouldn’t have even started, if I’d known about her to begin with, but- it doesn’t matter, it’s over.”

“Are you sure?”

“Would I have married someone else if I wasn’t?”

“Yes. For your people, you would,” he said, soft, fond, and she felt her heart melt a little. He was right, of course, but she knew that wasn’t a factor anymore. She plucked Olivia from her crib and walked over to where he was pulling his shirt on. He sighed, looking them over. There was something sad in his gaze but she didn’t have time to think about it. 

“Come on, let’s see what this messenger has to say,” she said, gesturing towards the door with her chin. 

He walked out with her, striding down to the place where Wells and someone wearing distinctive Trikru garb were in solemn conversation while Murphy boredly tossed grapes into his mouth beside them. 

“Lincoln?” Bellamy said, surprised. 

The messenger glanced up. “Bellamy! Good to see you.”

They clasped arms the way that grounders did, clearly a lot of respect between them, and Bellamy looked around as if expecting to see someone else. “You here alone?”

“Anya was looking for a messenger, I volunteered.”

“Ah,” he realised. “She doesn’t know you’re here.”

“No, and she’s not gonna be happy about it when she realises,” Lincoln shrugged. “But I’m sick of this; if Octavia wants to have nothing to do with the sky people, fine, but I think you did the right thing - with skaikru on our side rather than against us, we can only improve.”

“I like to think so,” he took a step back, arm sliding around Clarke’s shoulders. “This is Clarke, my wife, and the angel she’s holding is Olivia. Clarke, this is Lincoln, he’s my sister’s husband.”

“I see,” Clarke nodded, holding her hand out for him to shake. He took it with a friendly, if small, smile. “It’s nice to meet you. You’re not what I expected, although I’m not sure what I _was_ expecting.”

“Thanks,” he said dryly. “You’re almost exactly what I expected, but you must understand my wife has been ranting quite extensively about you for some weeks, so I had a fairly clear picture in my head, despite her biases.”

Clarke laughed - so far, she really liked this soft-spoken warrior; he seemed level-headed and was on good terms with Bellamy, which was good enough for her, but the fact that he clearly loved his wife despite his exasperation with her really clinched it. 

“We were just talking about that,” Wells said, grinning. “Apparently Octavia is someone I don’t wanna get on the bad side of.”

“Nope,” Bellamy said, at the same time as Lincoln agreed;

“No you don’t.” They shared a look. “Anyway, that’s not why I’m here - Anya wanted me to inform you that she thinks Nia’s planning something, and she wants a meeting with you, to discuss it. She thinks we should be prepared; all of us.”

“Fuck,” Clarke muttered, then looked down at the baby in her arms. “Don’t listen to Mommy, she says bad words.”

Olivia just beamed up at her, oblivious. 

“What do we do?” Clarke turned to Bellamy, watching him think it over. 

“We take the meeting,” he said. “And I think you should go.”

“What?”

He ran a hand through his hair, looking between her and Lincoln. “Anya knows me, she trusts me - if we send you instead of me or both of us, then she’ll know I trust you implicitly; there will be no doubt that you’re just as much my people as she is.”

She blinked, inexplicably touched. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he moved closer, hand coming around the back of hers on Olivia’s head. He looked down at the girl, wistful smile crossing his face; that expression tended to only appear when he was thinking about his sister or worrying about Olivia’s future. This seemed to be some mix of both. “Plus, it’ll prove to my sister that you’re not some conniving person trying to take advantage of me.”

“You wanna send me to this meeting to dunk on your sister?” 

“No.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Partly,” he admitted. 

She snorted. “Well how could I say no to that?”

“I have no idea what Octavia doesn’t get about this arrangement, you two are perfect for each other,” Wells teased, earning an elbow to the ribs from Clarke even as Lincoln smiled in agreement. “You need a sidekick?”

“You volunteering?”

“Of course,” he said, like she would be a fool to assume otherwise. “You’re not going on an adventure like this without me; last time I let you out of my sight you got married.”

“I would have done that if you were there,” she pointed out. 

“I know, but this way I get to see it when you marry Anya,” he deadpanned. 

Clarke rolled her eyes playfully. “If you come, the others will want to as well.”

“Miller, I’ll allow,” Wells said, mock serious. “If Murphy tries to come, I’ll kick him out of the moving rover.”

“I’ll help you,” Clarke agreed. 

“I’m literally sitting right here,” Murphy said, raising a hand from where he was sitting. 

“So?”

“So I’d throw _myself_ out before I let one of you two do it,” he flashed a grin. “Besides, if I stay here I can seduce Bellamy away from you and take my place as rightful ruler of the valley.”

Bellamy shook his head at them all, amused, and Lincoln seemed equally as charmed. “I can see why you like having these people around.”

“Can you? Not me,” he joked, catching Clarke’s eye and smiling. 

“Get a room,” Murphy groaned, throwing berries at them.

* * *

Clarke left with Lincoln that afternoon, and much to Bellamy’s chagrin, she took Olivia with her. He understood why, and he didn’t object, but he did spend an inordinate amount of time hugging her to his chest and whispering things before she finally extricated her from his arms so she could wrap her in the papoose, ready to travel. It was kind of adorable, really, how quickly he’d fallen into the role of her father, how much he adored her. It was enough to make Clarke’s heart flutter. 

She tried to ignore it the same way she had been for weeks, but this time the skip in her chest was accompanied by a sense of anxiety about the trip, and it was harder to push down. 

Bellamy pulled her aside before she left, while Miller and Wells put their feet up in the rover and Lincoln sat astride his horse, waiting for her. 

“If you think anyone’s following you, you strike first,” Bellamy said, dark brown eyes boring into hers. “Don’t give them a chance to sneak up on you. And don’t let Anya walk all over you; she’ll like you more if you have a mind of your own. And keep out of Octavia’s way, I know how much she respects Anya’s leadership, but that might not stop her from taking a swing at you just because I’m not there to stop her, and-”

“Bellamy,” Clarke clasped his shoulders. “I’m going to be fine.”

He deflated and looked down at Olivia, stroking her cheek. “I’m just concerned.”

“I can see that,” she smirked, stepping away from him, towards the car. “You’ve got the radios, if you get worried, you can call.”

“Good,” he nodded to himself. “Good.”

Clarke climbed into the passenger side of the rover and Wells turned the engine over, making a face at her that she refused to look at. She helped Olivia wave to Bellamy as they drove away, and for a long moment it was dead quiet. Until-

“So he’s in love with you,” Wells said conversationally.

“Shut up,” Clarke said, and forcibly dragged the conversation towards their plan of action for the Trikru meeting. 

* * *

When they arrived, a few hours later, Clarke was tired, Olivia was sleeping, and Wells and Miller were back to teasing her about Bellamy. 

She climbed out of the rover carefully, just in time to see Lincoln dismount his horse and a familiar head of black hair go barrelling towards him. The way Octavia flung her arms around her husband and pressed her cheek against his was sweet, verging on wholesome. It didn’t last; the second she glimpsed Clarke hovering by the rover, she let go of Lincoln and attempted to push past him to get to her. He put his hands on her shoulders to hold her back and she glared over at him. “What’s _she_ doing here?”

“Be nice,” Lincoln warned. “Anya sent me to procure a meeting with Shallow Valley Kru.”

“Funny, I don’t see any members of Louwoda Kliron Kru here,” she said sharply, anger permanently affixed between her brows.

“Ah, Clarke,” Anya’s voice sailed over them as she approached. “Good to see you. Bellamy couldn’t make it, I presume?”

Clarke shrugged. “He didn’t see much point in both of us leaving the valley when we can just as easily divide the workload. I brought a radio with me, so we’ll still be able to talk to him if you need.”

Respect flickering over Anya’s face; clearly Clarke had passed whatever test she’d been set. “And how is the child settling in?”

“Olivia,” she smiled down at the baby in her arms. “She’s just fine.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Anya gestured past where Octavia was still being held in place by her husband. “We’ll get you set up for the night and then you and your advisors should join us for dinner. I’m sure we’ll all be _delighted_ to hear how you’re settling in.” The last sentence was punctuated with an intense stare at Octavia, who bristled, but didn’t disagree. 

As it turned out, ‘dinner’ meant a strategy session in which food just so _happened_ to be served. 

The room they were led to after they’d been shown to their sleeping quarters was a large space with an enormous wooden table in the center, and Anya was already there waiting for them, along with Lincoln, Octavia, Indra, and a few other faces that she recognised from the night she married Bellamy. 

Octavia’s glare seemed to have lessened somewhat in the hour since they’d arrived, and Lincoln was downright _friendly_ compared to the others who were terrifyingly reserved, but at least not trying to attack them anymore. Clarke was handed a plate of meat and vegetables while she leaned over the interesting map Anya had spread over the large table in the centre of the room. It was some mix of map and diorama, important structures created on top of the terrain, and she could see a kind of tower at one end. 

“That’s Polis.” Miller muttered at her side. “It’s where Bellamy took us to see the Commander.”

Anya nodded. “And this,” she pointed at a distinctly different looking structure, “is the Ice Nation stronghold.”

Even in diorama form it looked a little foreboding. Clarke frowned at it. “It seems… close.”

“It never used to be.” Anya growled. “Nia’s been trying to expand her territory for years. She was trying to use your arrival to do just that, to force you backwards into our land and then draw a new line in the sand once she’d killed you.”

“Smart.” Clarke frowned, thinking it over. “And you think she’s still trying?”

“We know she is,” Indra chimed in. “She’s been sending parties out - small ones, spies - to push the lines back, to interfere. She wants trikru land, but she also wants control of the valley. Aside from Polis, they’re the two most strategic places to control.”

“And we think she’s planning on overthrowing Polis, but she can’t do that until she’s in control of more of us.” Lincoln said. 

“Shit.” Clarke said, then glanced down at Olivia once more. “Sorry. Please don’t grow up swearing.”

There was the sound of an amused snort, like a laugh muffled by something, and Clarke looked up in time to see the edges of a smile fall from Octavia’s face, replaced once more with thinly veiled contempt. But hey - it was something, at least. 

“We have enough warriors to hold her off, at least for now.” Anya continued. “But if she attacks the valley…”

Clarke nodded. _The valley clan is peaceful,_ the silence was saying, _if Azgeda attacks, they won’t stand a chance._ She looked down at the map, thinking it over. Trikru’s territory was firmly between Ice Nation and Shadow Valley, which was probably the only reason why Nia hadn’t already made her move, but the threat of Trikru warriors responding wouldn’t keep her at bay forever. “We have guns.”

“They have the numbers.” Anya countered. 

“If we…” Clarke looked to Wells and Miller for their approval. “If we train Trikru to use the guns-”

“Then we double our advantage.” Miller agreed. 

“And solidify our alliance.” Wells said thoughtfully. “Show Nia that Trikru and Shallow Valley, along with us, will stand together, against whatever she throws at us.”

She flashed a wan smile at them both before she turned back to Anya. “How about a trade - we teach you how to use the guns, and you send some of your warriors to stay in the valley until the threat has passed. That way both our territories have more protection, and with members of your clan in our territory, it sends a clear message to Nia.”

Anya observed her for a moment, her eyes taking in the way Clarke’s arms were wrapped around Olivia even though they didn’t have to be, holding her close as they talked about war. After a long moment, her gaze returned to Clarke’s face, and she nodded curtly. “Bellamy was lucky to be chosen by you.”

She felt inexplicably like blushing, and she ducked her head. “I just want what’s best for my people. Shallow Valley is my people now. And yours could be too, if you don’t have any objections.”

“I would not object to that.” Anya said, stoic as ever, but Clarke had a feeling the woman might actually _like_ her, which was nice. She liked the other woman too, despite - or perhaps because of - her harsh demeanour. 

Olivia made a sudden noise and Clarke laughed, stroking her cheek. “I’m sorry, was I not paying you enough attention?”

She clapped her chubby little hands together and gurgled happily, and Clarke peppered her face with kisses, making her happy noises turn into infectious giggles. 

When Clarke looked back up to the warriors, ready to apologise for becoming distracted, she found them all looking rather more soft-faced than before. Even Octavia looked swayed. _Note to self,_ Clarke thought, as the discussions moved on to strategy, _bring the baby to every meeting._

* * *

They worked through the night on a plan, and when they finally broke for bed, it was past midnight and Olivia had been sleeping for hours. So of course, she woke up right as Clarke went to put her to bed, crying for food and attention. 

Clarke picked her back up, rocking her, and pulled out the radio. “Bellamy?”

He answered in seconds. “Princess?”

 _“Princess?”_ She couldn’t help the smile that pulled at her lips at the word. “Since when did you start calling me that in English?” 

He huffed. “Since your boyfriend got here.”

“What?”

“Finn arrived tonight,” Bellamy sounded frustrated, “supposedly to pick up something for Raven, but all he’s been doing is asking where you are. It’s none of his goddamn business, but I told him more than once that you’re busy leading our people, and when I told him where you were, he accused me of sending you off into dangerous territory. Like you can’t take care of yourself. Like you didn’t bring Miller and Wells with you. Like I would have ever let you go if I thought something was going to happen to you. I mean, where does he get off be-”

“Whoa, hey,” Clarke said soothingly. “We both know that’s not true. Just ignore him, he doesn’t get a say in what I do, you know that. I’ll be back tomorrow and we can deal with it then, okay?”

“I don’t like him.”

“I know.”

“I don’t like that he still acts like you’re together, like he owns you. What if I hadn’t married you? Would you have gotten with him? You’ve told him more than once to back off. If he’s treating you like this now, what would he have been like if you’d stayed with him? You don’t _belong_ to anyone, Clarke.”

She smiled softly. “I know.”

He seemed to realise he was winding himself back up again and deflated slightly, breath exhaling loudly through the radio. “Sorry. I just… I don’t like it - him being here - I don’t like the idea of him interfering.”

“We can deal with it when I get back.” Clarke promised. “I’ll tell him to back off, and that if he doesn’t, then we’ll consider not letting him move to the valley when the rest of them do.”

“Fuck that.” A voice said, as someone walked into her tent. “If this guy is bothering you, we’ll tell him the consequence for not backing off is a knife to the chest.”

Clarke’s head jerked up, clutching Olivia tighter instinctively before she registered what the woman was saying. Octavia was standing awkwardly in front of her, still as terrifying as ever, but her angry gaze was directed at the radio this time. 

“Octavia?” Bellamy’s voice crackled down the line. 

“Hey Big Brother.” She sat down on the edge of the mattress and sighed heavily, looking just the tiniest bit guilty. “Look, I know I was kind of an asshole to you, before, but I… I get it now.”

“Get what?” Clarke asked.

“Why you chose my brother. Why he offered. And I think you’re good for each other, and for us.”

There was a drawn out pause where Clarke couldn’t find the words to respond, and Octavia sat there waiting, and awkwardness permeated the air until-

“That’s the closest I think you’ve ever come to an apology,” Bellamy said. 

“Fuck off.” Octavia snapped, but there was no heat in it. 

“Leave her alone,” Clarke’s face cracked into a grin as she looked back to the radio, “As long as we’re good, I’ll take it.”

Octavia returned the expression. “Deal. So who’s this guy that won’t leave you alone?”

* * *

The next morning, Clarke felt a _lot_ better about their chances. Anya and Indra had worked with her to create a solid plan to defend themselves and each other against Nia’s forces, should they attack, and she and Octavia had brokered a - tentative - peace between them, which Clarke assumed was at least partially influenced by Lincoln, who she was really starting to love. 

He came by to escort them to breakfast - apparently Trikru ate at some ungodly hour of the morning when the sun was barely up - and Clarke sat with Olivia on her lap between Miller and Wells, across the table from Octavia, and for the first time, it felt like she was eating among friends. Despite the few sharp looks she got from some members of the clan, she was beginning to feel settled. 

As it turned out, among the group of warriors who had agreed to come back to the valley with them were Octavia and Lincoln, and despite the fact that Wells and Clarke both got on surprisingly well with Indra, she elected to stay close to her leader. Clarke could understand that. 

They set off home right after breakfast, after Clarke pulled Anya aside and gave her the radio. She was certain Raven would scold her for handing out tech, but being able to communicate with their allies was paramount, and she was sure Raven could just create more handsets.

A group of around twenty Trikru warriors had elected to come back with them, but even on horseback they couldn’t keep up with the rover, especially when Clarke was driving. 

“You know there’s a brake pedal, right?” Wells asked, bouncing Olivia on his knee and making silly faces at her. 

Clarke frowned, looking at the speed dial. “It’s fine, we’re barely going forty.”

“Clarke, we’ve left our new allies in the _dust,_ you can ease off the accelerator a little.” 

She sighed, but she did lift her foot off the pedal, just a little. She was oddly desperate to get back to the valley, and she kept trying to tell herself it was because she missed her friends, or because she wanted to share the plan with everyone, but she knew that a big part of it was that she missed Bellamy. 

When had that happened?

When has she started to think of Bellamy as more than just a co-leader? As someone she trusted implicitly? As a friend? 

She tried to shake it off, but the closer they got to the valley, the further down her foot seemed to press, and she kept having to remind herself to slow down.

As they pulled into the village, Clarke hesitated to take the baby, who had fallen asleep in Wells’ arms, and he waved her away, promising he would let her know the second she woke up. The three of them headed for the tables that they knew would still be adorned with breakfast - which didn’t end in the village until midday - and Clarke thought about how close the clans were in proximity yet how different their days ran. They’d left Trikru at first light, when breakfast was finishing up, and they were arriving in mid-morning, when Shallow Valley had barely woken up. 

She reached the tables first and immediately started heaping fruit and bread onto a plate for Wells. She handed it off to him and he went to sit down while she stacked her own plate, and she was still trying to decide how many berries was considered _too much_ for a second breakfast, when someone appeared at her side. 

“Hey Princess.” Finn smiled. “I got here last night hoping to see you, and everyone told me you’d gone off on your own to broker more peace with the grounders.”

“I wasn’t on my own, Wells and Miller were with me.”

He was still smiling, but there was concern behind it. And it was a tiny bit patronising. “Still, that’s impressive. How did it go?”

“Really well.” Clarke said, and meant it. 

“Good. Hey, next time you go, I could come with? We work pretty well together, don’t you think, Princess?”

She opened her mouth to reply, and she knew it was going to come out harsher than she meant it to, knew it was going to cause a scene, but before she could even get the first word out, a familiar chest pressed against her back.

“Morning, Princess,” Bellamy said as he slid her arm around her waist so he could look over her shoulder at the food on display. She knew he said it in English just to get a rise out of Finn, but frankly she didn’t much care; she just wanted him to say it again. 

“Morning,” she hummed, popping a piece of fruit in her mouth. “Sleep well?”

“Would have slept better with you, Princess,” he teased, and she couldn’t help smiling as he leaned forward to pluck a bread roll from the table, using the opportunity to press his cheek against hers. 

“Hey how about you find your own nickname,” Finn complained. 

Bellamy raised an eyebrow, fingers flexing against Clarke’s hip, just briefly. “How about you find your own wife and stop hitting on mine?”

Finn spluttered, “I’m- that’s- I’m not-”

While he struggled to find an excuse, Murphy and Miller appeared on their other side and started loading their plates full of food. “Hey Bellamy.”

“Murphy, Miller,” Bellamy nodded, like he hadn’t just broken Finn’s brain. 

“I met your sister yesterday,” Miller said, making a face. “She scares me, dude.”

“Yeah, me too,” he grinned. 

“Oh, hey Princess, how was your trip?” Murphy asked, leaning against the table like he had all the time in the world. 

“It was… okay, actually,” she shrugged, glancing up at Bellamy. She’d already filled him in the night before with Octavia, and he nodded along as she explained. “It could have gone better; turns out Nia’s planning an attack. But on the plus side, Anya is with us, so we have the full strength of Trikru on our side, and a bunch of their warriors are on their way here now. They should arrive in the afternoon. How were things here?”

“Fine,” he waved a hand, noncommittal. “Bellamy and I kept things under control here.”

Bellamy snorted. “More like Bellamy and _Monty.”_

“I believe my presence helped.”

Finn seemed to find his voice again. “Why does _Murphy_ get to call her Princess and I don’t?”

“Because I’m not hitting on her.” Murphy said casually, popping a grape in his mouth. He spoke through it. “Well, sometimes I am. But it’s platonic. I’m not trying to get in her pants, is what I’m trying to say.”

“I love you too, Murphy.” Clarke flashed a grin at him and he winked at her before he slunk over to where Wells and Olivia were sitting with his plate of food. She looked back to Bellamy, who was smiling at her in that way he did when he watched her joke around - like he was trying to commit it to memory because it didn’t happen all the time. 

But Finn wasn’t done. “I’m not hitting on her.”

Bellamy’s smile turned hard around the edges. “Good. Because if you were, I’d remind you that she’s _married,_ to _me,_ and regardless of anything else, you should respect that.”

“What if Clarke isn’t happy?” Finn asked, and Clarke _felt_ the temperature drop a few degrees as Bellamy’s jaw started working. “It’s a marriage to seal the alliance between our people, but it was never her real choice. What if she decides she doesn’t want to be married to you anymore? Are you going to force her to stay by your side?”

“We’ve already talked about that.” Bellamy said, and Clarke had to admire his restraint. 

“And?”

“And it’s not your business.” Bellamy growled. 

“Can the lady speak for herself?” Finn asked. 

Miller winced. “Dude, stop digging.”

 _“The lady,”_ Clarke raised an eyebrow, “is just trying to get something to eat.”

“I’m just saying, I’ve never seen you let someone else speak for you-”

“He’s not speaking for me.” She said. “He’s speaking on behalf of a conversation we _both_ had. A private conversation, about a marriage you know nothing about. But even if he was speaking for me, I trust him to represent me. Yes, this was a marriage of convenience, but that doesn’t mean we’re not friends. It doesn’t mean we don’t respect each other or that we can’t understand each other’s perspectives. It _especially_ doesn’t mean I’m somehow _on the market_ just because we didn’t marry for love. Bellamy is my husband, in every sense of the word.”

Finn looked like he’d been slapped. 

Bellamy’s hand on her waist tightened, pulling her flush against his chest, and he turned his face to hide his expression in her hair, but she could feel his smile against the back of her head. Miller had to physically turn away, and she could hear Murphy snickering loudly, and she felt bad, she really did, because Finn’s expression made it look like she’d just ripped his heart out of his chest with her bare hands. She hadn’t been trying to, but if all it took to cut off his infatuation with her was for her to _imply_ that she was sleeping with her husband, then she’d take that. 

“Oh hey Clarke, when did you get back?” Monty strode up, completely oblivious to the tension in the air.

Miller choked on his tea. 

She looked over Finn’s shoulder. “Twenty minutes ago? I was just gonna come find you, actually, and Harper - we need to teach some of the grounder warriors more about how us Sky People do things.”

“Harper’s on guns, I’m on tech?” Monty guessed correctly. 

She shrugged. “As long as you’re up for it.”

“How dare you,” he deadpanned, “of _course_ I’m up for it. Jasper’ll help me out, we’ll be fine.”

“Every teacher needs a glamorous assistant,” Jasper said, appearing at Monty’s elbow. “Hey Clarke, how’s it hanging? What’s wrong with Finn?”

Miller gave up on trying to act normal and just put his plate down and walked away, shoulders shaking as he went. 

“Nothing, he’s fine.” Clarke waved a hand, brushing past him as she took her plate over to where Wells and Murphy were sitting, both of them trying desperately not to laugh. Bellamy went with her, pressing right up against her side as they ate, while Finn still stood rooted to the spot like a stunned fish. 

Jasper and Monty took her word for it and followed them to the patch of grass they’d taken up on, sprawling out over the space. 

Wells passed over Olivia and Clarke leaned against Bellamy while she ate with her free hand. She wondered if it was too much, if he was bothered by it, but he seemed all too willing to take most of her weight while she focussed on the baby. Plus, it had the added advantage of selling her words to Finn, who hadn’t moved for over a minute. Bellamy started talking to Wells, asking him what he thought of Trikru, and Clarke let herself relax and focus on her daughter. These moments were few and far between, and once the others arrived, she wouldn’t have time for moments like these for a while, so she was going to to enjoy this one while she could. She wasn’t going to let her guilt at upsetting Finn bring her down. It was his own fault his heart got broken - she’d told him multiple times it was never going to happen and he let himself fall for her anyway. 

Most of her guilt, if she was honest with herself, was about Raven. She never wanted her friend to feel lesser, and even though she hadn’t done _anything_ to lead Finn on once she knew of Raven’s existence, the mere fact that he was still pining after her was enough to make her feel bad. She resolved to call her later and have a frank conversation about it, but until then, she pushed the feeling to the side and just tried to enjoy the ridiculous faces Jasper was making in futile attempts to make Olivia laugh. 

* * *

Octavia and the others arrived just before lunch, when Clarke was sitting with Bellamy going over their strategy. She barged right into the house like she owned the place and kicked her feet up on the table. 

“We could have been naked.” Bellamy said, glaring over at her. 

“Together? Is there something you’re not telling me, Big Brother?” A shit-eating grin worked its way over her face. 

He turned back to the maps, scowling. “I think I liked it better when you were fighting with me.”

“What? All I’m saying-”

“Where’s Lincoln?” Bellamy interrupted. 

She rolled her eyes, but she let him steer the conversation away from whatever it was she was teasing him about. “Talking to Wells and some blonde chick.”

“Oh, that’s Harper. You’d like her.”

“Speaking of blonde chicks I like; Clarke, I heard you put that douche in his place this morning. I’m sad I wasn’t there to see it, to be honest.”

She blinked. “Wow, word gets around fast.”

“Not really, Miller told me before I even managed to say hello.” Octavia said. “I think Miller might secretly be a gossip. You think this Finn asshole will leave you alone now, or do I need to start sharpening my knives?”

“As if they’re not already?” Bellamy muttered. 

Clarke patted his arm placatingly while she turned away from the table to tell Octavia the full story. Lincoln came in about halfway through, but he seemed to have been told the rest by Wells and Murphy, and he sat quietly until she was done. 

Olivia started fussing from her cot, making displeased noises, and Clarke made to go get her but Bellamy put a hand on her arm and went to pick her up himself. He held her close to his chest, rocking her and humming quietly as he returned to the desk and leaned over the wood, helping Clarke write lists of supplies and number the scouting parties. Clarke kept getting distracted by Olivia’s smile, or the way Bellamy looked at her, and it made the planning take twice as long, but she didn’t mind. At some point, she noticed that Octavia was looking at her funny, but the second she made eye contact, Octavia stood up and announced her intention to show Lincoln around the valley. Strange, but she was probably still getting used to seeing Clarke in a more positive light. That was all. Probably. 

Clarke watched her go with a smile, and when she turned back, Bellamy was making a ridiculous face at Olivia to make her giggle. Her heart skipped; this was going to be a _lot_ to deal with. 

* * *

Over the next few weeks, as the ominous threat loomed over their peaceful little clan, Clarke and Bellamy made sure everyone was training as much as possible - grounders with guns, delinquents with hand to hand combat, all of them sharing knowledge with each other - but there was something anxious in the air. Anticipation for the inevitable turning point. 

There were rumblings that there was a spy among them, and while Clarke had yet to find any proof of the rumours, it didn’t exactly help morale. 

Lincoln was pretty good at smoothing things over on the rare occasion people became irate or arguments started, and if he wasn’t around to do it nicely, Octavia could always do it more aggressively. Not the tactic Clarke preferred, but it did work. 

Finn returned to the Dropship and most of the radio communication ended up being with Raven. She didn’t bring it up, but it seemed like they had broken up, and she and Clarke ended up having a long conversation one night over the radio while Bellamy sewed Olivia a new outfit about it, to clear the air. Raven didn’t blame her, but there was still a level of frustration there because of her involvement, however unwilling, and Clarke understood that. It was probably good that they were so far apart, because it gave Raven time to process everything. 

And then there was Bellamy. 

Every morning she woke up to this perfect, amazing man, and every morning it got a little harder not to do something about it. 

Like when he made her a bath after a long day. 

Or when he doted over Olivia. 

Or the mornings when she woke up before him and got to see him truly peaceful. 

It was becoming a bit of an issue, if she was honest with herself. They were _married,_ it shouldn’t be so hard to admit that she had feelings for him, but she couldn’t seem to bring herself to say something. She didn’t want to break whatever they had, because whatever it was was already so close to perfect. They were in sync as leaders, and as partners, and the only thing missing was the romance. So if she had to live the rest of her life without the romance, but she got Bellamy, she knew that would be enough. It wasn’t even a question. 

Of course, it really didn’t help things that in every spare moment, her friends took it upon themselves to hound her about Bellamy. 

“He likes you.”

Considering it was the fourth time he’d said something like that in the last week, she was barely listening. Wells and Monty had been helping her all day, and unfortunately they had also been offering _helpful_ comments like that too. The sun was going down, an they were sitting on the banks of the lake, looking for seaweed while Miller and Murphy went fishing a few feet away. “We’re married, Monty, I _hope_ he likes me or this is going to be a long lifetime.”

“You know what I mean,” he rolled his eyes. “The way he looks at you, like…”

“Like he’s trying not to kiss you, every second of the day,” Miller chimed in. 

“Shut up, no he doesn’t,” Clarke shook her head, fighting the urge to stick her fingers in her ears. 

“He does.” Wells said. 

“I’m telling you Clarke, he’s got a thing for you,” Monty said. 

She thought about it; about the smiles he shot her from across the forest when he saw her, or the way he always had a hand on her waist or her shoulder, and the fact that it never felt awkward sleeping beside him every night. About all the little things he did for her. 

“You’re reading into things because you’re bored,” she argued, brushing the fleeting hope aside. 

“We’re not bored.” Murphy sat down across from her and stole a piece of bread from Wells’ plate, seemingly for the sole purpose of annoying him. “We’re on constant alert for a possible threat and we’re building a society out of two very different cultures. None of which has any effect on the fact that you and Bellamy want to have each other’s disgustingly beautiful babies.”

Wells looked over at him, wide-eyed. “That’s the smartest thing you’ve ever said.”

“Yeah, I’ve been spending too much time with you.” He complained. 

“You’re wrong.” Clarke said, still in denial. 

“Wrong about what?” Octavia emerged from the lake, fish in hand, and dropped it onto the pile, striding over to where they were sitting. She was dripping wet and Miller tossed her a towel which she used to half-dry her hair before she sat down next to Monty, looking from Clarke’s irritated expression to the amusement of her friends. “Oh, this is about Bellamy.”

Clarke threw up her hands. “Fuck you guys, I’m gonna eat dinner with Emiliana-”

“You can’t deny it forever.” Harper jogged up, catching the thread of the conversation along with the satsuma Monty tossed to her. 

“You too?” 

Harper shrugged. “It’s obvious to everyone else, Clarke; that doesn’t tell you something?”

“It tells me that you all need to mind your own business.” She said petulantly. 

Octavia reached over to clasp her hand, catching her attention. “Clarke, listen to me. I know my brother. I fight with him, I hate him sometimes, and I know exactly who he is. So when I tell you that my brother is ridiculously, disgustingly in love with you, I need you to know that I’m telling the truth.”

“You guys are assholes.” Clarke groaned, letting her head fall into her hands. 

“That doesn’t make us any less right.” Murphy waggled his eyebrows. 

She rolled her eyes and shrugged them off like she always did, but Octavia kept shooting her a knowing look, and as they returned to the village with the fish and ingredients and Bellamy handed over Olivia with a smile, she felt a flutter in her stomach. She pushed it down and went with him to talk to Indra about the information she’d received from Anya about Azgeda’s movements, and for the rest of the night, she managed to put the idea aside. 

But she couldn’t shake their words, and she started noticing the little things more and more. 

When they said goodnight to the villagers and their friends and shuffled into the bedroom, Bellamy wordlessly took Olivia from her arms while she got changed, and she did the same while he got into his own night clothes, and they both put her into the cot and hovered over it until she was asleep, Clarke’s back pressed against his chest and their hands tangled together over the railing. 

It was... intimate. 

More intimate than Clarke had ever been with anyone in her life. 

And it scared her, because she realised that she’d grown used to this, to _him._

When they climbed into bed, he pulled out a new book - he’d cycled through a few in the six weeks since they got married - this one was by someone called Kurt Vonnegut, from what she could see, although the cover was water damaged, so it was hard to make out the title. He sat up with a dim lamp on his side, the way he always did, and the familiarity made her chest ache. For the first time in weeks, Clarke felt anxious enough to keep her awake; not the anxiety she felt during the day about approaching threats, but the fear she’d felt those first few nights in bed beside him, and as she lay down and closed her eyes, she couldn’t help but feel panicked, adrift. 

“You okay?” Bellamy asked, because of course he noticed. 

She nodded, scrunching her eyes tighter. “Yeah, sorry, just… stressed.”

“Can I do anything?”

She hesitated. “Read to me?”

She could hear the smile in his voice when he opened to the first page and started to read. _“This is a tale of a meeting of two lonesome, skinny, fairly old white men on a planet which was dying fast.”_

“Because we need more of those.” She said, not even opening her eyes. 

“Don’t insult Kurt, he’s pretty great for a lonesome, skinny, old white guy.” Bellamy deadpanned. _“One of them was a science fiction writer named Kilgore Trout. He was a nobody at the time, and he supposed his life was over. He was mistaken. As a consequence of the meeting…”_

While he read, his arm crept around the top of the pillow and his fingers carded through her hair, the repetitive movement immediately setting her at ease. She fell asleep with him stroking her temple with his thumb while the words of the novel blended together and cushioned her in his voice. 

In that space, nothing could hurt her. 

* * *

Of course, peace never lasted long, not on the ground. 

Not two days later, there was a commotion at one end of the village. Clarke and Bellamy both dropped what they were doing and jogged over to find Octavia, injured, but okay, and a few other warriors from both Trikru and Shallow Valley fairly shaken up. 

“Azgeda!” Octavia gasped, as Clarke pressed gauze against the cut on her side. “They sprung a trap, they’re coming from the north!”

“Through Trikru territory?” Bellamy asked, sceptical. “And Anya didn’t notice?”

“It was a small group, they must have been keeping low - a scouting party, maybe,” Indra suggested. “They set ankle traps by a line of trees between the territories, and as we crossed through, we got caught in it and they attacked us from all sides. It was only a few this time, but once we escaped, guaranteed they come back with more.”

“You think this is the moment? This is her move?” 

“I think she’s testing the chinks in our armour, and we need to patch them,” Octavia said, straightening as Clarke finished bandaging her side and stepped away. Bellamy passed Olivia over to her so he could hug his sister, whispering something to her before he stepped back, making sure she was okay. Octavia folded her arms. “Before you start, I’m going back out there and there’s nothing you can say to stop me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he promised. “As long as you know there’s nothing that’s going to stop me from coming with you.”

“Bell-”

“As the leader of this clan, that’s my duty.” He drew himself up to his full height. “And as your brother, that’s my responsibility. I’ll put together a group, anyone who wants to join, and we’ll head out and make camp at the edges of the valley. We’ll keep a supply line running through and we’ll take the radios so we never lose contact, and we’ll be ready for them.”

People began to mobilise, word of the plan spreading out into the village. It didn’t take long for a mob of fighters to start pouring towards the treeline, all of them volunteering to go with him - Shallow Valley, Trikru and delinquents alike - and Clarke caught Harper’s gaze through the crowd. She looked determined; every person here was ready to fight for their home. 

Things moved fast after that. 

Clarke took charge - her tactical mind nudged to the forefront while Bellamy went to gather more people - and split them all into smaller factions, fanning the groups out in a wide arc around the north side of the village, and some of the Shallow Valley clan began dispensing food into packs for them all, while delinquents rationed out the guns and the remaining members of Trikru bottled water. It was a team effort, and if you didn’t know better, you wouldn’t see a difference between the three clans.

Bellamy returned with another group of people, and he’d changed into an outfit like the trikru warriors wore, complete with heavily armoured chest piece and the gun Clarke had taught him to shoot. Her heart jumped into her mouth when she saw him. 

For some reason the sight of Bellamy dressed like a warrior, in a way she’d never seen him, actually made it all feel real and, selfishly, she didn’t want him to go.

Their friends appeared behind him, immediately making a beeline for Clarke; because of course they knew how much this would be tearing her apart, without even needing to ask. Wells put his hand on her shoulder briefly, and Murphy shot her a dark look, one which told her he was just as worried as she was, even if he wouldn’t say it. 

Bellamy clasped hands with Miller and hugged a few of the others, but before long Octavia approached from the line of warriors and jerked her chin expectantly towards the forest. 

“Ready to go?” Bellamy asked his sister. 

Octavia nodded. “You sure about this?” 

“Clarke?” Bellamy asked, looking to her. 

She readjusted Olivia in her arms, clutching her just a little tighter. “I can hold down the fort here, make sure the fighters are ready and the others are ready to hide, but just… don’t die, okay?”

“I’ll do my best,” he grinned at her. 

“I mean it, Bellamy.” It came out harsher than she meant it and he blinked in surprise. She swallowed, manoeuvring in front of him and planting her feet. “You have people to come back to. Stay alive.”

The smile fell off his face. He lifted a hand to her cheek, holding her gaze. “It’s gonna be okay, Clarke.”

“You don’t know that,” she whispered. “I… Bellamy, I…”

He pressed his forehead against hers. “I know.”

“No, you don’t.” Clarke said, and grabbed the strap of his shirt with her free hand, gripping it tight as she surged up to kiss him. For a quarter of a second that felt like forever, he didn’t react. And then his arms came up around her and he was kissing her back so passionately she almost lost her balance, saved only by his firm hold on her. He carefully left enough space between them for Olivia, but it was clear he wanted nothing more than to yank Clarke against him and never let go. 

She was dimly aware of their friends all talking over each other but she could barely register it over the sound of her own heart drumming in her ears. When Bellamy pulled away, he dropped his head into the crook of her neck, hugging her like his life depended on it. “I was hoping that’s what you meant.”

She laughed, turning her head to the side so she could kiss the place below his ear, sliding her hand up into his hair and tangling her fingers in his curls like maybe she could make him stay. “I should have done that weeks ago.”

“Yeah, well, so should I.”

“You’re both idiots,” Monty chimed in helpfully. 

Olivia gurgled between them, clapping her hands, seemingly in agreement with their friends, and Bellamy huffed into Clarke’s shoulder, but he was smiling, and his hand moved to the back of Olivia’s head, making sure she was alright. 

“Thanks guys,” Bellamy straightened so he could glare at their friends, kissing Clarke’s cheek as he stepped back, far enough that he could duck down to plant a kiss on Olivia’s cheek before he let them both go. 

“Come back.” Clarke said, and despite the tone of her voice making it sound like a command, the look in her eyes made it clear it was a plea. 

He nodded, walking backwards towards the line of warriors still waiting for his command. “I’ll do my best.”

“You better,” she said, quiet.

He smiled one last time before he turned around and disappeared through the crowd as they all started moving out towards the edge of the valley, and within minutes, every last person that had previously made up the mob of people was gone from view. 

Wells and Miller sidled up to her, both keeping their distance but wordlessly offering support if she needed it. 

She took a deep breath, readjusted Olivia so she could balance her on her hip, and turned to face the delinquents. “What are you all standing here for? Let’s go help everyone else prepare for war.”

* * *

They split into pairs so they could cover more ground and all of them spread out to help the villagers pack or train; just in case. She didn’t want to think about what it meant if the villagers ever actually had to fight - that Bellamy could be dead, or captured, or worse - so she chose to focus all her energy on reassuring everyone she came across. 

She helped a few of the teenagers set up mock traps, and she listened to the worried parents who were trying to prepare for every eventuality, and she even comforted a girl with a skinned knee whose mother had gone off to fight. 

The girl was hiding behind a tree, crying quietly, and Clarke stumbled across her on her way to the other side of the village, working her way through every household on the east side with Miller. 

“Hey,” she said, poking her head around the tree trunk. “Are you okay?”

The girl curled into a ball, tight as can be. “Go away!”

Miller gestured that he was going to find anyone who knew who the girl was, and Clarke nodded, planning to keep her attention until he returned. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not supposed to see anyone when I’m hurt!” She cried, muffled against her knees.

“That’s okay, I’m not going to tell anyone.” Clarke crouched down in front of the little girl, putting Olivia down on the grass between them. She couldn’t have been more than six, and she looked scared. “Is your mom around somewhere? Or your dad?”

“Mom’s gone to fight with Bell-my.” She sniffled, but she was lifting her head a little. 

Clarke nodded gently. “Okay. Is that why you’re sad?”

She shook her head. After a few seconds, she moved her hand off her leg, and there, on her knee, was a gash, like she’d tripped over something and scraped it. But the injury wasn’t red, like you’d expect - it was black. 

Clarke remembered Bellamy’s story about his sister, and quickly realised why this girl would be so afraid to let anybody see her. She was probably trained from birth to keep it secret. “Okay. That doesn’t look too bad, do you mind if I fix it up?”

The girl shook her head. 

“You can keep Olivia entertained while I make this better, how about that?” The girl’s face broke into a watery smile, and she waved at Olivia, who flapped her hand excitedly back. Clarke pulled out some gauze and got to work cleaning up the injury, which wasn’t that bad, all things considered. “I’m Clarke, what’s your name?”

The girl, who was so busy tickling Olivia that she almost missed the question, looked up. “I’m Madi.”

“It’s nice to meet you Madi.” Clarke finished bandaging up the injury and scooped Olivia into her arms, offering Madi a hand to her feet. She took it tentatively, standing up with only a slight wobble. Clarke squeezed her hand. “How about we make a deal? Because you were so nice to Olivia, I promise not to tell anyone about your scratched knee?”

Madi nodded dutifully. “Can I play with Olivia again sometime?”

“Only if you behave,” a voice carried over, and a man, who must have been Madi’s father, approached with Miller in tow. Madi ran over to him, barrelling into his legs, and he looked at Clarke in relief. “I’m grateful, for what you’ve done here today.”

“It’s nothing, I only fixed a cut,” she waved a hand, dismissing the thanks, but he remained serious. 

“You kept my baby girl safe. We won’t forget that.” And with that, he picked his daughter up and returned to his house. 

“Well,” Miller said, eyebrows practically in his hairline. “That was cryptic.”

Sometimes Clarke forgot that he didn’t know as much of the grounders’ history as she did and she shrugged. “What can I say, I’m just that good.”

He snorted and she bumped her hip against his as they returned to the path, knocking on every door and making sure everybody knew their fears were valid and that Clarke was ready to hear anyone’s thoughts if they needed. 

The sun was beginning to set by the time they reached the south-east part of the village, and Clarke was following Miller towards the next house - a wooden hut near the treeline - when Miller disappeared. 

Clarke froze. 

“Miller?” She called out, nervous, taking half a step back. 

“Clarke?” His voice had a weird sort of echo to it, and she frowned. “Clarke, I think I fell!”

She edge forwards, keeping her eye on the ground beneath her feet. That was the problem at dusk - it became a lot harder to see where the safe footing was, because of the shadows the tree canopy cast - and she looked towards where she’d seen Miller last. “Where are you?”

Her question was answered when she nearly stumbled into it herself; a pit had been dug into the edge of the path, covered over so it wasn’t visible, and Miller was at the bottom. He looked up at her, and there was a good foot of space between where he could reach and the top of the hole. 

Clarke tilted her left side away from it, keeping Olivia on the side with safe ground, so she could peer down and see if she could work out how to get her friend out. It was odd though. What would a seven foot hole be doing on the edge of the village. “What the fu-”

“Clarke, look out!” Miller yelled, pointing upwards. 

She barely had time to look up before something descended from a tree branch above her. 

The arm that she had wrapped around the baby was suddenly being yanked at, and Clarke was thrown off balance, but not willing to let go of her child, she swung her other fist, hitting whoever or whatever it was that had attacked her. 

It cried out - human, at least - but it didn’t stop. 

Something smashed into the side of Clarke’s head and her entire world shook, eyes losing focus and limbs turning to jelly with the force of it. Her ears were ringing and she couldn’t catch her breath. 

She was going to pass out, she knew it. 

Her grip on Olivia slipped, and she stumbled, ground tilting beneath her. 

Miller was screaming something but Clarke couldn’t hear it. 

All she could hear was Olivia’s frightened cries as someone wrenched her from Clarke’s arm.

She sank to her knees, blinking, but her eyes felt heavy and her limbs wouldn’t move. 

Clarke couldn’t think, she couldn’t breathe, all she could do was listen as her baby howled hysterically, and the figure that attacked her started to blur in her vision and sprint away into the forest. 

Her baby was gone. 

Miller yelled something that sounded like her name, but she couldn’t make herself answer. 

She fell the rest of the way to the valley floor, cheek pressed against the grass, with Olivia’s cries echoing in her ears as unconsciousness claimed her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thoughts??????????????? 
> 
> (i know, i'm an asshole)


End file.
